


on purpose

by scoutshonour



Category: Girl Meets World
Genre: Alternate Universe, Coming of Age, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Friendship is Magic, Maya Hart-centric, Minor Lucas Friar/Farkle Minkus, Minor Shawn Hunter/Topanga Lawrence-Matthews/Cory Hunter, Multi, Slow Burn, based on gmw terror 3, brief lucaya and riarkle, mild enemies though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:14:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 122,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24395593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scoutshonour/pseuds/scoutshonour
Summary: In a world where Maya never crawled into Riley’s bay window, Maya meets Riley in their senior history class, and it’s hate at first sight. To end their feuding, Cory pairs them up as partners for a history project.Maya just wants to get this stupid project done with so she never has to talk to Riley Matthews again. She doesn’t expect to find love, her place in the world, and some hope for the first time in her life, all from a history project, and yet.
Relationships: Maya Hart/Riley Matthews
Comments: 156
Kudos: 249





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [i will love you until infinity](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8285146) by [scoutshonour](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scoutshonour/pseuds/scoutshonour). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey friends! this is a rewrite of my rilaya au 'i will love you until infinity' - if you read that story, then hey, welcome back! and if you haven't, you don't need to read that story. this follows the same premise but has its slight differences, different writing style, and other changes tbd. 
> 
> i started that story way back in 2016, and couldn't bring myself to finish that version of it, but i really loved the story, so i decided to rewrite it! 
> 
> this is based off girl meets world of terror 3. riley and maya not being friends since they were kids changes everything and everyone, as you'll see, so while characterizations may seem off, it's all deliberate.
> 
> now, on with the show!

“You’re late, Miss Hart. _Again.”_

Maya rolled her eyes as she breezed past the second column of seats to reach hers. The only sounds in the classroom were her footsteps and the rattling of the ice cubes in her iced coffee. Even after she slid into her seat and dropped her backpack to her feet, no one spoke. Her history teacher was still staring at her, expectant. The rest of the class remained silent.

Maya already wanted to bolt. She should’ve given in to her urges and just slept in, her first-period history class be damned. Sure, she’d promised her mom she’d really _make an effort_ now that it was her senior year of high school, but that was more on her mom than her for actually buying it. Promises weren’t real. School wasn’t worth it. History class wasn’t important enough for her to be on time. She figured these were well-known facts.

Well, maybe not to everyone.

Standing at the front of the room, her history teacher, Matthews — she had to peek behind his head, at the corner of the blackboard to remember his name — raised an eyebrow. “Well? What happened?” He sounded sincere. Like he genuinely wanted to know and wasn’t going to ridicule her for it.

But Maya knew that even if she was honest, it wouldn’t matter. This wasn’t going to be her last time being late to his class. He’d still get annoyed, tell her to suck it up, that since she was a senior year, now she had to like it. He’d probably give her some spiel about how colleges wouldn’t accept this kind of behaviour, blah blah blah. 

Why bother? Why go through it if she knew the results?

Maya leaned back in her seat. She met her teacher’s gaze and raised her chin. She’d never be the person who got to class on time or remembered due dates or participated in class discussions. But none of that mattered. What mattered was sticking up for yourself. _That_ waswho she was. She didn’t back down. Ever.

“You should be glad that I bothered coming to class at all,” Maya said. 

There were a few shocked snorts of laughter, one or two coughs faked to hide the sound. The girl in front of Maya let out a small sound caught between a gasp and huff. Even Matthews was smiling, amusement in place of the condescension Maya was expecting.

“I _am_ glad that graced us with your presence,” he said. He leaned against his desk, crossing his arms over his bright purple blazer. “I do need a late slip. Did you get one?”

Maya gestured to her empty desk, her empty hands. “Does it look like I have a late slip?”

“Can you please get one?”

“What’s the point of missing _more_ class just for a formal —”

“ _Oh my god.”_

The girl in front of Maya turned around, her ponytail swaying behind her. She glared, her eyes hardening as they stared into Maya’s. “He’s just doing his job, you know.”

Maya was almost impressed. _Almost._ The girl in front of her mastered the art of passive-aggressiveness, and her tight smile paired with the intense way she held Maya’s gaze was kind of terrifying. If Maya was anyone else, she’d back down. Instead, she grinned.

And then it hit her, who she was talking to. 

Maya held the other girl’s gaze, unblinking. “Of course you’d say that, _Matthews.”_ She could leave it there. She probably should. But her day was already off to a shit start and Little Matthews was looking at her like she was trying to burn holes into her head and the entire class had been _staring_ at her since the moment she walked in as if they were all better than her and she was just so fucking _over it._

“Tell me,” Maya said. “Are you this much of a suck-up to your other teachers or is _daddy_ just an exception?”

She couldn’t be sure if there was laughter or whispering or any noise at all. She couldn’t be sure of anything other than the pure bliss she got from watching Little Matthews's nose flare, her perfectly shaped eyebrows shooting up into her hairline. It felt _good_.

For about three and a half seconds.

“Maya, Riley,“ Matthews said sharply. “That’s _enough.”_

Riley smiled, bared her teeth. “It’s called caring. I care about my dad, shockingly.”

For half a second, Maya’s breath stuttered before she remembered who she was and picked herself back up and clenched her jaw. She silently dared for the other girl to go there and play the dad card.

But Riley used a different one instead. “What do _you_ care about other than being an asshole and Lucas Friar’s dick?”

The class lost its collective mind, breaking out into jeers and laughter. Poor Matthews. He sighed, rubbing his temples. There was no way anyone would be paying attention to whatever boring history lesson he had planned after this. He was probably thinking about how to regain control of his class after the mess caused in part by his _daughter._

As for Maya, well. She didn’t know what to think or even feel, and that alone was unsettling.

On the one hand, she was a bit proud of herself. She stood her ground. She pissed off Little Matthews, no doubt getting her in trouble now both as a student and a daughter. This was probably the most vulgar thing she’d ever said in public. Maya sat back in her seat, a small smirk on her face, outwardly cool and amused.

But on the other hand, she felt painfully seen. Riley Matthews was still looking at her, and she was really _looking,_ through her instead of past. She appeared unimpressed, her lower lip curled, but also like she pitied Maya. _Poor thing,_ her half-frown said. _You don’t even realize how fucked you are._

Which was bullshit. Maya was _happy_ with her life. She liked her absentee mother who spent more time working than at home, her boyfriend who kissed her like he loved her, the parties that gave her something to look forward to, and her mediocre grades that didn’t matter because _school_ didn’t matter.

She was happy with _herself._ She cared about people and about things and about herself even if she didn’t show it in conventional ways.

She didn’t need a stuck-up and perky brunette to tell her otherwise. 

Maya knew all of this. But she still found herself at a loss for words, staring helplessly back at said stuck-up and perky brunette without a comeback on the tip of her tongue. Not even a simple _fuck off_ or _bite me._ She couldn’t tell what she hated more: the fact that she couldn’t think of what to say or Riley’s stupid victorious smirk.

“ _Hey.”_ Matthews’ booming voice captured everyone’s attention. 

Riley whirled back around, her ponytail flapping again in the air. 

Maya had the childish urge to reach out and _yank_. But Matthews was thoroughly pissed off, and attacking Little Matthews would just affirm her opinion that Maya was low life trash. Normally Maya wouldn’t care what someone else, especially someone like Riley fucking Matthews, thought of her, but today, for whatever reason, she wouldn’t be able to stand it.

It didn’t help that Matthews launched into his I’m-Not-Mad-I’m-Disappointed speech. Maya mostly tuned it out, but she got the gist of it: this was not acceptable behaviour, every student here was worthy of and needed to give respect, and laughing at arguments like this was unproductive and unkind. Who fucking cared.

“You all signed your student conduct code at the beginning of the school year, which need I remind you was less than _two weeks ago,_ and have been doing the whole high school thing for three full years now. I expect better, from all of you, and I know you’re all capable of it.” He pointed to Riley then Maya. “I’ll see you two after class.”

Great. She’d be late for her second-period class too because she was late to first and Matthews’ spawn had shit to say. 

Despite her flash of irritation, she was still surprised that she wasn’t sitting in the principal’s office right now. She was late, immediately insulted the history teacher, and then insulted his daughter too. That constituted a visit to the principal’s office. If anyone would know that, it’d be Maya.

When Matthews’ eyes met hers, Maya forced a nod. That seemed to appease him because he clapped his hands and started leisurely pacing in the front of the room.

“Alright, finally, let’s get started!” He glanced at the clock hanging above the door. “That really took half an hour?”

A collective grumble from the class said ‘yes.’

“No problem. We still have forty-five minutes!” Matthews said in a painfully cheery voice. Maya momentarily saw the family resemblance between him and his daughter. She nearly gagged.

His lesson wasn’t really a lesson. They were still mostly in the introductory phase of the course. He’d explained on the first day that he usually waited for the first two weeks of the semester to pass when he got a twelfth-grade course to wait for the students who wanted to drop and for the students who wanted to get in. In the meantime, it was just back and forth between Matthews and the class. 

All they did today was talk about the way the curriculum failed to honour the most important parts of history. They brainstormed different parts of history that schools ignored and talked about why that could be.

It was so much of him _talking_ on and on _._ Even with Maya’s iced coffee, she couldn’t bring herself to focus. To her credit, she tried. A little. She pulled a notebook out of her backpack and wrote down the date, a header, and a few of the brainstormed topics — civil rights, the war on drugs — but as soon as he mentioned that he would post everything they discussed on their Google Classroom, she tuned out completely. The rest of her page ended up full of doodles. 

At one point, she realized she’d drawn the back of Little Matthews’ head, her dumb ponytail included. But she didn’t erase it. She should. But she liked the shading of the hair, kind of, the lines of the neck. She reasoned that it’d be stupid to erase a perfectly fine doodle over the annoying person it was of.

The bell eventually rang, signalling the end of this period and announcing the five minutes it’d take to get to the next classroom. Maya curled her hands into fists, remaining still in her seat as all of her classmates left the room.

Well. All but one.

Matthews stood by the door, smiling at the students as they exited. There were choruses of _Bye, Mr. Matthews!_ and _See you tomorrow!_ that actually sounded genuine. Charlie Gardener even bumped his fist against Matthews’.

After the last student exited, Matthews walked back into the middle of the room and stood in front of Maya and Riley’s column of seats. “So. I’m having trouble understanding what that argument was. Is there some shared history I’m unaware —”

“ _No,”_ they both interjected. Maya couldn’t tell who sounded more disgusted, except she could. She couldn’t see Riley’s face but she was sure it looked like she’d bitten into a lemon.

“Okay. Then what was it?”

Riley actually _raised her hand._ Matthews’ smile was painfully fond as he nodded at her.

“I was defending you!” She burst out, speaking loudly and quickly. Her voice was already giving Maya a migraine. “ _She_ was so out of line, needling you like that, and I know you weren’t going to call her out. I’m sick of people taking advantage of your kindness like that.”

“Get a grip,” Maya snapped. “What did he need defending from? We were _talking._ He was just doing his job like you said. And just because the conversation was in front of the entire class and I was talking to your dad doesn’t mean it’s a conversation _you’re_ part of it. I don’t care how —”

“ _Guys,”_ Matthews interrupted. “Come on. Remember what I said about basic respect?”

“Yes,” Riley said.

“No,” Maya said.

“You both deserve respect. Respect yourselves and each other. Riley, I understand you were trying to do the right thing, and I appreciate that, but I’ve got it under control, okay? You don’t have to defend me. Maya has a point. I didn’t need any defending.” Matthews smiled softly. Riley’s shoulders drooped, some of the tension draining out of her as she nodded at her dad. 

It’s only a small gesture. A blink-and-you-miss-it type of thing. So Maya digging her pencil into her notebook hard enough that she tore a hole into the page meant nothing.

“Is there anything you’d like to say, Riley?” Matthews said.

Riley sighed so theatrically that Maya wanted to throw something at her. She turned around, gripping the back of her seat. Maya could see all the effort the other girl was using to keep her face composed, but she still saw the cracks of irritation. Riley’s eyes were slightly narrowed and she was biting the inside of her cheeks. 

“Maya,” Riley said carefully. “I’d like to apologize.” 

Maya braced her hands at the sides of her chair and leaned forward. Riley blinked at the sudden movement. It was subtle, but from how intently Maya’s watching her, it didn’t go unnoticed.

Part of Maya was amused that Riley genuinely thought Maya would attack her in the middle of school in front of her father. And then part of her was just as pissed off by it.

“So apologize,” Maya said.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said any of that. You’re more than Lucas Friar’s dick.”

Matthews groaned. “Riley!”

“What!? She _is!_ Is it _not_ a respectful thing to say that she’s more than some dude’s penis —”

“Are you fucking with me?” Maya asked coolly. 

“ _No,_ why do you both think —” Riley scowled, evidently frustrated, and grabbed Maya’s hands. Her fingers were warm and soft and insistent, clinging to Maya’s and rendering her so incapable that she didn’t swear and immediately jerk away like her instincts told her to. “I was sincere. I still am. You’re more than a stupid boy, okay? I shouldn’t have said that. It was out of line. I’m sorry.”

Maya didn’t know what to do with this — Riley’s hands, her seemingly sincere apology. She finally pried her hands away, pointedly wiping them on her jeans. The achingly earnest expression on Riley’s face didn’t fade one bit. It was annoying.

“Apology acknowledged,” Maya finally said. 

“Good.” Matthew beamed like the sight of Maya and Riley not throttling one another was worth celebrating.

Riley cleared her throat. “Well? My apology was acknowledged, but not returned.”

“Excellent observational skills,” Maya drawled.

Riley rolled her eyes and turned back around to face Matthews. “If she’s not going to apologize then can I go to class? I’ve wasted enough time on this.”

“As if your time is that fucking valuable —”

“All I did was tell you to _respect my father,_ why you are so allergic to basic kindness —”

“Why are you so allergic to not being a stuck-up bitch —”

“Oh my goodness!” Matthews threw his hands up into the air. “You were making progress! Holding hands! _Apologizing!”_

“Dad, I’m sorry,” Riley said.

“I’m sorry too,” Maya started.

Matthew covered his face with his hands. “Why do I feel like you’re not done?”

“I’m sorry that your _daughter_ is so goddamn annoying —”

Riley stood up so suddenly that her chair creaked as it was scooted backwards. “I’m done here. I’m going to class. You have fun dealing with this, _this —_ do I have permission to call her a bitch?”

Matthews tilted his head to the side and furrowed his eyebrows. “No, you do not!”

“You suck.” Riley zipped her backpack up, slung it across her back, and gathered her notebook and her textbook that Maya didn’t realize was required for their class into her hands. “I hope you know that.”

He smiled faintly. “I’m well-aware. Thank you for the reminder, honey.”

"Anytime, Dad.” She pushed her chair in and proceeded to walk to the door. She lingered by the doorway. “Good luck with _that.”_

“Thank you!” Maya called out. “But I think I’ll be fine with your dad!” 

Riley grumbled something under her breath and left.

“Well, this was fun.” Maya slotted her notebook and pen into her backpack while standing from her seat. “But, you know, let’s never do it again.”

“Maya.”

She looked up at the sound of Matthews’ voice. His mouth curved downwards into an almost frown, his forehead wrinkled in thought.

She squared her shoulders. Her grip on the strap of her backpack tightened. “What?” 

“Is everything okay? At home, in your personal life maybe? You don’t have to talk to me, of course, but you can if you want to. And our guidance counsellors are always here to help. Miss Pontez is your counsellor, right?”

It took a painfully long time for her to understand what he was trying to say, but when she got it: “You’re concerned about me. That’s it?”

“Well, yes. You’ve been late five times out of the nine days of the semester.”

“That could just mean I don’t care about your class enough to come on time. That I’m lazy. Unmotivated. Careless.”

“Could be that, sure. But I don’t think it’s fair to assume the worst of people, especially with my students. Compassion goes a long way. And sometimes all someone needs is to be asked if they’re okay, so I’m asking.” 

Something in her chest shifted, the movement small but enough to throw her off balance. Her brain reminded her that she was fine and nothing was wrong with her or her life and she should be lucky that Matthews was such a push-over and didn’t punish her.

But her heart, it was screaming at her, drowning out her brain and begging to be heard. But Maya couldn’t understand what it was trying to say.

“I’m starting to see what your kid means by people taking advantage of your kindness,” she managed to say past the lump in her throat.

“Her concern is valid, don't get me wrong, but I stand by it. Don’t you think that’s the better approach? Extending a hand instead of enacting a punishment?”

The bell rang. 

“Well, your extended hand has got me late to my next class,” Maya said a little uneasily. “Again.”

“I’ll write you a slip. My apologies.” He half-jogged towards his desk, pulling out the top drawer and a purple slip from inside it. He retrieved a pen from his front pocket. “Who’s your teacher for your next class?”

“Coach Grady,” Maya said. The change rooms were most definitely locked by now. She’d have to change in a stall in the girls’ washroom. 

“She’s new this year, right?” 

“Yeah.” She bounced on the balls of her feet, watched Matthews scribble on that slip of paper. “She’s alright, I guess. Doesn’t really care if we’re late.”

He snorted, capping his pen before slipping it back into his pocket. “Subtle jab. Definitely slicker than any of the crap I said to my teachers back when I was in high school.” He slid the slip of paper across the table.

Maya’s lips twitched upwards. Just barely. She took the slip without looking at it. “What, you weren’t some straight-A teacher’s pet? I figured _—_ ” It occurred to her that she was talking to her _teacher_ who a little over an hour ago was annoyed at and who she was equally annoyed with. It didn’t matter if he showed the smallest amount of concern. He was still a _teacher._

“What’d you figure?” His tone was so painstakingly _friendly._ He was smiling like he actually wanted to know, intrigued even if it was an insult.

She shrugged, fiddling with his note. “Oh, just that you were a goody-two-shoes. Can’t imagine a class clown ever becoming a teacher, you know. That’d be like ... _me._ As a teacher. Doesn’t really make sense.”

“I probably would’ve thought the same when I was younger. I wasn’t a straight-A student, but I was definitely a teacher’s pet.” He laughed to himself. “I annoyed my old teacher a lot.”

“Why?”

It was Matthews’ turn to shrug as he filed his binders into his briefcase. “Because he was my favourite.”

“... Yeah, that’s definitely not what’s happening here.”

He laughed again, the sound warm and almost infectious. “Don’t worry. I ain’t getting any ideas.”

“You better not.”

“I look forward to having you in my class this semester, Miss Hart,” he said with sincerity that she didn’t know what to do with it. He lifted his briefcase and walked towards the door. “With the hope that your arguments with Riley don’t persist.”

“No promises,” she called out as he left the classroom. She should leave too, hurry up and get to her gym class. But her feet were rooted to the floor. A million different emotions stormed inside of her, too many for her to begin to understand and sort through. 

She knew this much: something was different now. Something had changed.

But that was all she got. There wasn’t enough light to see the rest, what was next if anything. Maybe this was just a blip in her small unextraordinary life. Tomorrow, she’d be late again to history class and Matthews would be frustrated and dread teaching her for the next few months and Little Matthews would have something bitchy to say and the world would go on like it always did.

Maybe.

Maybe not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos/comments are greatly appreciated! we're looking at weekly updates, the date tbd. come say hi on tumblr @trulyalpha. if you liked the fic, please consider [reblogging the photoset here!](https://trulyalpha.tumblr.com/post/619217085089841152/on-purpose-in-a-world-where-maya-never-crawled)  
> take care!


	2. Chapter 2

That same day, Maya couldn’t pay attention to the rest of her classes.

Okay, she never paid attention, but that was because she chose not to. But today, she didn’t have a choice. Today, all she could think about were the fucking Matthews’.

Her mind kept straying back to her first-period history class. How Riley snapped at her, all self-righteous and indignant and annoying, her ponytail almost as high as her own ego. How Matthews had the nerve to gripe about Maya being late and then made her late for her next class, actually having the audacity to ask her if she was alright. 

Sticking your nose in other people’s business must’ve run in the family.

Matthews had the wrong idea. She was happy. She had a good life. She didn’t need saving. 

But it kept intruding her thoughts. Riley’s disgust, pity, irritation. Matthews’ concern, kindness, forgiveness. The painful sincerity in Riley’s apology while Maya refused to apologize and just immediately pissed Riley off all over again. The frustrating compassion Matthews offered her that Maya declined without a second’s worth of consideration of what it would mean if she accepted it. 

She couldn’t stop thinking about it, replaying that morning, reliving her frustration and anger and a new feeling that she didn’t know what to do with but was left with all the same: guilt. She didn’t do anything wrong, had only stood up for herself, but the guilt ate away at her. It made room for more stupid feelings that she wasn’t used to and didn’t want. Shame. Embarrassment. And almost, maybe, kind of, a little bit of regret.

But none of it stung as harshly as the words that kept looping in her mind, Riley’s voice haunting her.

_What do you care about other than being an asshole and Lucas Friar’s dick?_

Maya was well-aware that it didn’t mean anything. Riley was just trying to insult her, and that comeback ended up being the only one that didn’t sound like a line of dialogue ripped straight from a Disney original movie. Riley simply took the only two things she knew about Maya — she was an asshole and she sometimes slept with Lucas. Maya shockingly already knew that.

But it got to her. Riley Matthews, a girl that, outside of today, Maya had never spoken to or paid any attention to in the past three years they attended Abigail Adams High together, fucking got to her. The worst part wasn’t that it was Riley who said it or that she’d reduced Maya to Lucas.

It was that when Maya really got to thinking about what Riley had asked, about what she cared about, she didn’t know how to answer that. 

And when she tried to think of a different way to describe herself, she didn’t know how to do that either.

Maya was already well-aware that this was all dumb, okay? She cared about things. Everyone did. Even sociopaths cared about things like their own health, probably. And just because she didn’t know how to describe herself didn’t mean she wasn’t a _person._ People were complicated, indescribable, and constantly changing. They couldn’t be contained by a few adjectives. 

She had this thought halfway through her fourth-period English class. But then Harper, their teacher who let them call her by her first name, went on some long speech about the Shakespeare play they’d be reading this semester. Maya was too distracted to catch what the play was, and it was all Riley Matthews’ fault. 

From what little she _did_ catch, Harper seemed to be talking about right and wrong, the shades of morality, what it meant to be a good person. 

Which led Maya to the conclusion that maybe Riley’s point wasn’t that Maya didn’t care about anything. Maybe Riley’s point was that Maya _chose_ not to care about things because she was selfish and mean. Because she wasn’t a good person. 

She didn’t know why she was fixating so much about what Riley said. She wanted to yell at her, tell her that she was out of line, that apparently Maya did care about things and apparently one of those things was Riley’s unwanted opinions. 

Worst of all, she had the terrible urge to tell Riley that she was fucking right.

She always figured that deep-down, she was a good person. But what did that really mean? Where the fuck was _deep-down?_ All that mattered was what Maya did and what she did wasn’t enough. _She_ wasn’t enough. She could barely float in the kiddie pool that was high school. Not too long from now, she’d be thrown into the deep end and she wouldn’t make it.

Harper’s English class was an awfully mundane setting for Maya’s world to flip upside down. People didn’t get to choose where they had life-changing moments, but if she could, they wouldn’t choose their twelfth-grade English class.

Harper’s eyes lit up as she paced the front of the class, praising Shakespeare. Some students scribbled notes. A few more were just listening, watching Harper with apt interest. The scrawny boy next to Maya regularly raised his hand to ask questions and offer his own insight while the boy on her other side slept face-down on his desk. It was unfair that everyone around her carried on like usual. That for them, this was a regular day.

Meanwhile, the realization of who Maya really was and the wrongness of how she’d been living shattered inside of her, the pieces carving into her chest. Hot shame burned inside her. She squirmed in her seat, fingers twitching, heart racing, mind reeling.

What should you do when this happened?

Grab your things. Run out of the classroom. Don’t look back.

And that was exactly what Maya did.

.

.

.

“You just split? Without saying a word?”

“Would it be better if I’d said _goodbye_ and then left class with no explanation?”

“Obviously!” Lucas laughed even harder when she elbowed him. “You’re just annoyed that I’m right.”

“I’m just annoyed because you’re annoying.” She kicked at the pavement before stepping back onto the grass as they did another round around the school’s empty soccer field. Yes, they remained on school property while skipping class, but experts such as Maya and Lucas knew that as long as they were at a far enough distance where teachers couldn’t see them, they were safe. 

“Really? You think I’m annoying?”

She looked up at him, at his quirked eyebrow and the stupid smile on his face, and poked his dimple. “I don’t think you’re annoying. I _know_ you’re annoying.” 

Up close, Lucas’ skin glowed from the afternoon daylight and sweat. Maya didn’t know anyone who sweated as much as Lucas whose forehead was damp and whose black muscle tee clung to his back. She also didn’t know anyone who could sweat this much and still look objectively pretty, his green eyes bright, his loud snort of laughter somehow charming. “And that’s why you’re skipping class with me, right? And that’s why we regularly have —”

“Finish that sentence and we’ll never have it again,” Maya said.

“Fun. I was going to say fun.”

She tried to suppress a smile, but failed, elbowing him again. 

They walked past one of the goalposts. Their elbows knocked, fingers brushing, never lingering.

She lifted her head, glanced above the hill to their school, and briefly considered what she was missing in her last period calculus class. Not much probably. In the two weeks since the school year started, she still wasn’t entirely sure what calculus _was._ That should’ve given her more incentive not to skip class, but really, she was doing poor Mr. Bell a favour. Saving him the time he’d spend scolding Maya into paying attention. It definitely didn’t have to do with Maya running out on her English class, unable to stop replaying this morning’s fight with Riley Matthews and conversation with Mr. Matthews.

Not at all.

After she ran out of English, she texted Lucas, asking him to ditch the rest of the school day with her. He agreed, he always did, but he wanted to wait around for Zay, which wasn’t a problem for Maya. Both boys had the same last period Phys-ed class which was Lucas’ favourite. Maya was kind of touched that he missed it, a full hour of hanging out with his best friend and dicking around, and that he missed it for her, though she didn’t tell him that.

“You’re having fun right now?” She gestured to the empty field, the brutal late summer heat, the loud silence around them. “You didn’t have to come, you know. You could’ve gone to class, fuck around with Zay. I wouldn’t have held it against you.”

“What’s with you?”

She was a few steps ahead of him when she noticed that he stopped walking. Turning around, she raised her hand to block the light from her eyes and to avoid squinting at him. “What do you mean what’s _with_ me?”

“You’re acting weird. Why would you think I’d rather go to class than hang out with you, huh?”

“ _Hang out_? We’re not even doing anything. We’re just, just walking around, wasting time, seconds away from matching sunburns. This is actually fun for you?”

“If you wanna do something, we can do something. You know. Like each other.” 

“Oh my god, that was the worst segue to sex I’ve ever heard.”

“I’m just saying, you sound _frustrated._ I can help with that!”

“How kind of you.” Despite her dry tone, she softened, just barely, but enough that he noticed.

Lucas smiled that annoyingly smug smile of his. “What can I say? I have a big heart, Hart.”

“Hilarious, too. You really are the full package. I don’t know how all the girls in our grade aren’t _drooling_ over you.” 

He gasped, clutching his chest. “They _aren’t?”_

She rolled her eyes, but still leaned forward and cupped his elbow to drag him back into walking. “I’m shocked too.”

“Well, who needs other girls when I have you, right?” For a terrifying moment, Maya thought Lucas was being sincere until he made a face. “That sounded grosser than I thought it would. Don’t worry, I’m not getting any ideas.” 

Maya took a second to really look Lucas over. With his blonde hair, green eyes, tall, muscled frame, and his easy smile, he really was handsome. She’d known him since the beginning of high school, ever since ninth grade science. Fate didn’t bring them together, but rather alphabetical seating and the fact that the class didn’t have a student with the last name ‘G’. They clicked right away. Part of it was their shared struggle in passing the class, which they both eventually did with matching Ds, and part of it was that they didn’t really have anyone else, save for Zay. 

Sometimes she feared it was just circumstance. She didn’t (and aside from Lucas and kind of Zay, she still didn’t) have any friends. He was new to the city, leaving Austin after a huge fight with his parents. To this day, she knew nothing about the fight other than it was big enough for him to move in with his sister, Jo, in her apartment here in New York. He never brought it up, so she didn’t either. 

She didn’t really know how painfully lonely she was until the first time Lucas caught her in the hallway one minute before their class started, told her he was ditching and asked if she wanted to join him. Lucas didn’t know this, but that was the moment where Maya realized they were actually kind of friends. 

Other people saw Lucas and immediately wrote him off. Bad grades, skipped class, regularly got into fights, anger issues. It was all true, but there was more to him if people bothered to look. If the judgemental students and teachers at Abigail Adams spent just five minutes with Lucas then they’d really see him. They’d see the guy who volunteered at the animal clinic his sister worked at, who drove Maya and Zay home when they were drunk and tucked them into bed, who sent his parents cards every Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, and Christmas even though they hadn’t spoken to him in three years. 

Lucas’s core was good, tainted only by his shitty parents and an education system set to fail its students. 

Maya knew all of this. Lucas really was a good guy. She didn’t know what stopped them from _really_ dating.

They did everything couples did. Kissed, slept together, spent time together, regularly texted. He currently had his arm around her, his fingers idly playing with her hair. And yes, it wasn’t like Maya had enough friends to know for sure, but she was pretty fucking sure friends didn’t do that. 

Sure, there wasn’t a _spark_. Butterflies didn’t fly in her stomach when her eyes met his across a classroom. Her heart didn’t skip a beat when their knees brushed at their spot at Topanga’s. Fireworks didn’t go off when she brought her lips against his.

But wasn’t that just what happened when you were with something long enough? And while the two of them weren’t really dating, they were still _with_ each other? Right?

He would be a great boyfriend. She could really love him. She already kind of did. 

“You’re thinking very loudly,” Lucas said. They’d done another lap around the field. Now, he led her up the hill, back to the school and towards the parking lot where the Jeep he shared with his sister was parked. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“Make it a dollar, and I’ll consider it.”

“I’ll give you a ride home.” He already drove her home every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, the three days he got the Jeep. Today was Monday. 

Any other day, she would’ve done something like stick her tongue out or poke his ribs and say it didn’t count. But today was different. It was as if there was a dark cloud hanging over her head, blocking her from the late summer sun. Her forehead was damp, sweat soaked through her shirt, and sunlight got in her eyes, but she still felt cold. 

“I don’t know, Friar,” she relented, on edge from this morning’s history class and her jumbled thoughts about Lucas and the god awfulness of being seventeen, forced to find her place in the world when she didn’t want the world to begin with. Nothing in her life was any different than it was yesterday, but it still felt like everything changed. Like for the first time, she was seeing things the way they really were, and among those things was herself. She couldn’t make out much, but what little she did see repulsed her. 

_I’m a mess. I’m beyond saving. I’m just an asshole who doesn’t care about anything,_ she thought. 

Maya knew how to stand up for herself. She just didn’t know how to talk about her feelings, how to articulate what the mess inside of her heart was when she never let herself think about it, always convinced that if she ignored it, it would go away. At this point, even if she wanted to untangle that mess, she wouldn’t know how. 

“It’s just been a weird day,” she said finally. She couldn’t meet Lucas’s eyes, her heartbeat pounding so hard she thought it might burst out of her chest, so she stared at the pavement of the parking lot. “I’ve been ... off.”

Lucas slid his hand to her shoulder, gently bringing her to a stop. “Hey. What is it?”

“It’s nothing.” It couldn’t have been a convincing lie, what with her wobbling chin and cloudy eyes. She didn’t know what the fuck was going on with her but it was annoying and needed to stop immediately or else Lucas would pick up on it. Taking a deep breath, she surged forward and crashed her mouth against his.

He stumbled back. A surprised noise escaped his throat. But then he eased into it, kissed her back with earnest. His large hands were soft as one cupped the back of her head, the other her cheek. No fireworks, but it was nice, kind of. It didn’t feel like anything other than what it was, a pair of lips against a pair of lips.

Lucas pulled back, the faint pink of her lip gloss smeared on his lips. “School’s gonna let out in like five minutes. I told Zay we’d park a couple of blocks away so he could walk over and we’d avoid the traffic getting out of the school and get to Topanga’s faster. Let’s go now?”

Afraid her voice would crack if she spoke, she nodded in agreement. 

He dropped a quick kiss to her cheek. She felt his half-smile against her skin. Wordlessly, they both reached for each other’s hand and walked toward Lucas’s Jeep. 

.

.

.

Maya was fairly certain that this was how she was going to die.

She planned her obituary in her head, wondered if it was better to say that she died in a car accident or was killed in one while Lucas yelled at Zay from the passenger seat of his jeep.

“The limit is fifty, so why are you going seventy!?” 

Zay glanced at the rear mirror before he switched lanes. “There aren’t even any cars around us! And I’m not going to be _lectured_ by the king of speeding. Remind me how many speeding tickets you’ve got again?”

“Eight,” Maya said.

“Thank you.” Zay slowed to a stop at the upcoming yellow light. “I won’t be lectured about speeding by someone with eight speeding tickets.”

Lucas jabbed his finger into Zay’s shoulder. “Remind me who has their licence again and who doesn’t because he failed _twice?”_

“You said you wouldn’t make fun of me for that!”

“And you said you’d drive responsibly in _my_ car! Promises get broken!”

In the backseat, Maya flitted her gaze between both boys as they snapped back and forth. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Sure, the speed that Zay drove at was terrifying and it was probably in her best interest to jump out of the car now before Zay drove into a tree and killed them all, but watching them bicker was fun. 

“Oh my god,” Zay said. “You can trust me. I’m not gonna wreck your car, man. I’ll go the limit, okay?”

“You promise?”

“You _just_ said that promises get broken, dude, pick a side —”

“Okay, fine, I, uh. Believe in promises?”

“Good. I promise I’ll go the limit.”

“Thank you!”

“Thank _you_ for trusting me with your car, man.”

Lucas and Zay smiled at each other, the former leaning over to clap his hand against the latter’s. 

“You guys are cute,” Maya told them. “Truly adorable.”

“We really are,” Zay said with his blindingly-white grin.

“Right? And, you know, you’re not a bad driver, you just gotta slow down.”

“That’s a bit pot calling the kettle black.”

“I only speed in emergencies! Like when I’m late for picking up Jo from work.”

“How is that an emergency?” 

“Because, bro, she’d kill me if I was late.”

“Sounds like you’re just shit at being on time,” Maya chimed in. 

Zay looked over his shoulder and caught Maya’s gaze. They shared a smirk. “That’s true! Remember how he got, what, sixty lates last year in just one semester?”

“It wasn’t sixty, it was fifty-six,” Lucas corrected.

Maya rolled her eyes. “Because that’s _so_ much better.”

“You guys are total assholes,” Lucas said, a laugh cracking over the last word. “I don’t even know why I hang out with y’all.”

“Liar.” Maya scooted forward to the edge of her seat to tangle her fingers in his soft hair. “I know why you hang out with me.”

Lucas rolled his head back and gave her an upside-down grin. “Because of your dazzling personality, obviously.”

She leaned forward to kiss Lucas until Zay made a loud, disgusted sound. 

“ _I_ don’t know why I hang out with y’all. I don’t need to see this.”

“You do need to see the road,” Maya said right as the car behind them honked twice in succession. “It’s a green light.”

“Oh, fuck.” With a start, Zay slammed his foot on the gas pedal and the car zoomed past the stoplight.

“You’re going seventy again,” Lucas groaned.

Zay cursed under his breath. His grip on the steering wheel tightened as the speed of the car lowered, finally dropping to the speed limit. “I’m never driving again. This is too much.”

“C’mon, you’re doing alright. Don’t let one impatient asshole honking at you get to you.”

Zay pretended to gasp, his eyes briefly flicking to the rear mirror to glance at Maya before returning to the road. “Was that — was that a _compliment_ from Maya Hart?” 

“Is that good driving from Isaiah Babineaux?”

“Touche.”

She cleared her throat, thumbing the hole above her knee in her jeans. “I meant it though. You are doing pretty good.”

Zay’s face split into a smile. “Thanks, Hart.”

Lucas looked between them and beamed, delighted by the interaction. He raised the volume of the music, a song on the radio that sounded vaguely familiar to Maya but was well-known to the boys who immediately started scream-singing along to the words and nodding their heads along to the beat.

A drop of warmth spread through Maya’s chest, small and fleeting, gone before she could try holding onto it. She stared out the half-opened car window, the wind in her hair, afternoon light in her face. 

It was the first time all day that she was at ease. For a moment, all thoughts about history class and Riley Matthews and school and college and her dad and herself and everything else that weighed her down left her alone. As the song kicked into its chorus, Maya finally recognizing the song as she joined Lucas and Zay in singing, she welcomed the solitary.

.

.

.

Topanga’s was a cozy bakery about ten minutes away from Abigail Adams High School. Its proximity to the school made it the local hangout for their classmates which would be enough of a turn-off if not for the bakery’s student discounts, seats more comfortable than Maya’s bed, and their laid-back policies. Maya could come in at eight am, right at opening, buy a small coffee, and stay until they closed at ten pm. If she popped in within the half-hour after closing, then whatever she could get any pastries didn’t sell that day for free.

At least once a week, Maya found herself at Topanga’s. After school, wedged next to Lucas and Zay on the orange sofa seats. On a night her mom worked through the nights and into the mornings, perched by a window-seat with her earbuds plugged in, pencil in her hand, and sketchbook on the table. Twenty minutes before closing on the weekend, running in because she had the biggest craving for their strawberry smoothies. It was close to her high school, close enough from her apartment. Honestly, it was one of her favourite places on earth.

The rest of the drive to Topanga’s went smoothly. Zay began to panic once they reached the parking lot, so Lucas told Zay to put the car in park and he’d park the car instead.

“How’d I do? Be honest.” Zay asked Maya as they walked towards Topanga’s, Lucas still in the car.

“If you were actually bad, I would’ve told you. I wouldn’t lie to spare your feelings, Babineaux.” She held the door open for him, did a little bow when he thanked her. “After you stopped speeding, I stopped fearing for my life. That’s an A-plus in my book.”

The bell chimed above their heads as they stepped inside. Zay walked backwards to face Maya and deadpanned, “Well that’s perfect, since as we all know, driving instructors use those exact criteria to pass or fail drivers.”

“I’m kidding! Look, would Friar let you drive his car if he didn’t think you were a good driver?”

“No, but —”

“And if you were shit, wouldn’t I tell you that straight to your face?”

“Yes, but —”

“And did I tell you you were shit?” 

“ _No,_ but —”

“Look, you’re going to pass your driving test. You have nothing to worry about, so knock it off.”

Zay’s eyes crinkled with a smile as he walked them to the front counter. “Coming from you, that’s a helluva compliment.”

“Was that an insult?”

Zay laughed. Maya didn’t know how to tell him that she wasn’t joking, so she didn’t.

She peered at the glass display of pastries. Cookies, cupcakes, muffins, crepes, macaroons, slices of cake. She eyed the cookies. Today’s student discount was three for the price of a dollar. The scent of the pastries and freshly-made coffee wafting through the bakery along with the acoustic pop playing in the background lulled her into a sense of calm. 

She fucking loved this place. 

Within five minutes, once Lucas entered the store, the trio ordered, paid, and carried their drinks and pastries to their usual spots, the orange sofas. They each bought their usual drinks. Iced coffee for Maya, a mango smoothie for Zay, and a chocolate milkshake for Lucas. Together, they bought twelve cookies and each took four. 

Directly next to Lucas with his arm hanging on the back of her seat, Maya ate her second cookie in one bite. She grabbed a napkin from the coffee table and was wiping her fingers when Zay, across from them in his own seat, cleared his throat.

“You know, when I heard that one of my friends got into a fight this morning, I really wasn’t expecting it to be you, Hart.”

“That’s on you for having unreasonably high expectations of me.” Her throat turned dry so she grabbed her untouched iced coffee from the table and took a long swig, steadfastly staring at the bottom of her cup. “Who’d you think it’d be? Friar?”

“ _Obviously_ that’s what he thought.” Lucas turned in his seat to face her. He touched her arm, pulled lightly to get her to look at him. She didn’t budge. “Why didn’t you tell us earlier that you got into a _fight?”_

She tried not to bristle, tilting her chin up to look back and forth between Zay and Lucas. “It depends on how you define _fight_. See, I define a fight as I hit you, you hit me, boom, we are having a physical altercation, and we are therefore fighting.”

Zay snorted an incredulous laugh. He set his smoothie on the carpeted floor, in between his feet, and rubbed his hands together. “Well, I define a fight as you talking shit to Mr. Matthews’ face in front of the class and then somehow pissing off Riley Ray-Of-Sunshine Matthews. What happened?”

“You just _told_ me what happened. It’s not a big deal, okay?”

“Bullshit,” Lucas said. “If it wasn’t a big deal, then you would’ve already told us.”

Maya jerked away from Lucas, putting as much distance between them as possible without getting up from her seat. “I didn’t tell you because it wasn’t important, but if you really want to know, then fine. I was late, Matthews got pissy, I defended myself, and then his _spawn_ got pissy, so we just. Insulted each other a bit. That’s it. He didn’t send me to the principal’s office or give me detention, probably because he would’ve had to do the same to his daughter, so it doesn’t matter.” She flitted her gaze to Zay. “How’d you hear about it? Don’t tell me there’s a goddamn video or —”

“No video,” Zay said, a hint of softness in his voice. “I know Farkle Minkus.”

“Bless you?”

“Farkle? He’s a friend of mine.”

“You’re friends with half the school. I’m gonna need a few more details.”

“He’s dating that girl, Riley, right?” Lucas asked. 

Zay nodded. “They’ve been dating since forever. We have second period AP Chemistry together, and he knows I’m friends with you, so he asked me about it. He didn’t seem, like, pissed or anything. Just confused about it. Riley’s all, _kill ‘em with kindness._ Made sense for her to defend her dad, but the way she apparently blew up at you just seemed out of character, according to Farkle.”

“Out of character,” Maya repeated blankly. Her forehead creased as she took Zay’s words in. She didn’t know Riley Matthews, thank god for that, but from her single interaction today, she couldn’t see her as _kind_ or as a _ray of sunshine_ like Zay had said. It didn’t make sense with the annoying, self-righteous girl she sparred with just a few hours ago. “Well, it’s not on me. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Zay stared.

Lucas stared.

“I _didn’t!_ Sticking up for yourself is never the wrong thing to do. _She_ got mad at me for ‘talking back to her dad’ and defended him from something that he could handle himself, acting like she knew all about me when I’d be surprised if even she knew my name. She said all I cared about was Friar’s _dick.”_ She didn’t include the rest of Riley’s comment, accusing Maya of being an asshole. She wasn’t sure if she could keep her voice steady for it or not, and didn’t want to find out.

Zay’s mouth hung open. “No fucking way.”

“She mentioned _my dick?”_ Lucas’s eyebrows furrowed. “Please tell me you’re paraphrasing.” 

“She said, _all you care about is Lucas Friar’s dick,”_ Maya quoted, pitching her voice up a few octaves and speaking nasally. “See what I mean? She’s a total fuckin’ nightmare. You _think_ she’s a ladybug, but she’s really just a mosquito. Loud, bloodsucking, and a blight on this world.”

Lucas and Zay looked at each other. They held an entire conversation with their eyes, one that Maya couldn’t decipher and wouldn’t bother trying. She sighed, leaning back into her seat and idly twirling the straw of her iced coffee. 

She tried not to be resentful or envious of their bond. They had that kind of precious intimacy that only best friends could have, something she’d never really experienced before and probably never would.

Lucas and Zay’s story was unreal, more storybook than anything. Back in Austin, they were next-door neighbours in the same kindergarten class, resulting in an instantaneous friendship. They tried convincing their classmates and teacher that they were brothers. Lucas was the one who came up with Zay’s nickname because he had trouble pronouncing Isaiah. Back then and to this day, Zay was the only person who called Lucas Luke. 

But then life happened. In the summer before first grade, Zay’s mother received a once in a lifetime opportunity at some fancy law firm in New York City. And so off the Babineaux family went. On different occasions and without the other knowing, both have admitted to Maya that having to say goodbye to each other at six years old was the first heartbreak they knew. It was painfully endearing.

Flash-forward eight years to the summer before ninth grade. Lucas got into that big fight with his parents, last-minute transferred high schools, and moved to New York City. His sister’s apartment happened to be twelve minutes away from Zay’s, and Zay and Lucas ended up going to the same high school. 

Despite not hearing from one another in nearly a decade, they immediately recognized each other in their first-period Phys-ed class. Just like when they were little kids, they were once again inseparable. 

Maya didn’t believe in fate. But if there were ever an argument that could come close to changing her mind, it would be Lucas and Zay’s friendship. 

Even with all of Zay’s friends — his teammates from football, the straight-A students from his AP classes, and, like, half the school — his number one was still Lucas. Lucas never ended up making any more friends after reconnecting with Zay and meeting Maya. 

Once, sometime after the sun had set, Maya and Lucas were laying together in the back of his jeep in front of Maya’s apartment building. In a rare moment of sincerity, his chin resting on her head, he’d admitted in a soft and sleepy voice that he didn’t need anyone other than Maya and Zay. That they were more than enough. Maya didn’t know how to respond, was still thinking of what to say when Lucas pressed a kiss to her forehead and mumbled something about not understanding how she could actually get comfortable in the back of his car. She’d realized that he thought she was sleeping and that was why he’d said what he said. So she just shut her eyes, pretended to be asleep until eventually, she was.

She got what he meant, though. She _liked_ their little friend group.

It might have appeared like she was only being a good girlfriend by hanging out with Zay too. But she wasn’t Lucas’s girlfriend. And she genuinely liked Zay. He was the only popular kid that she understood the hype behind. He was charming, funny, and open-minded. He didn’t view Maya like the rest of their classmates and teachers did, as lowlife trash with a bad attitude, because he took the time to really _see_ her. 

Whatever the hell he saw, he must have liked, because he was really her friend too. 

In almost exactly ten months, they’d graduate. Go their separate ways, live brand new lives, and moments like today would already be a distant, fading memory. Even if they still remained friends, things would never be the same again. 

Maya shoved that thought away. She took a long swig of her iced coffee until there was nothing but melting iced cubes in her cup. 

She didn’t know what Lucas and Zay were talking about now other than that it wasn’t about her fight with Riley anymore. 

She stood suddenly. “I’m getting another iced coffee. You guys want anything?”

When they said no, she took her empty cup and walked towards the front counter. There was no line, so she gave the barista her order and offered her cup to reuse. She pulled out a crumpled five-dollar bill from the back pocket of her jeans and slid it across the counter. 

The barista shot her a smile. She couldn’t have been older than twenty, her hair short and dyed pink, a small hoop in her nose piercing. “Give me just a minute.”

Maya found herself smiling, her cheeks flushing pink. Her heartbeat fluttered helplessly as the barista ducked into the back of the store, out of view.

As she waited, she looked over her shoulder to see what the boys were doing. Someone else had joined them, currently sitting in Maya’s spot next to Lucas. A boy. Brown hair. Kind of lanky and scrawny. As he laughed at something Zay said, she registered him as the boy in her English class that answered every question and who was clearly Harper’s favourite. 

“I don’t know how you can read his writing on the whiteboard with how terrible his handwriting is, bro,” Zay said to the boy. “If you could send me the pics of your notes, that’d be great, Farkle.”

Maya froze. If Minkus was there, then was —

Suddenly, she had this terrible gut feeling. She just knew. Part of her could feel it. The other part knew that since the world hated Maya Hart, Riley Matthews would be in the store, maybe even standing right behind her.

She turned around. Of fucking course.

Riley’s eyes widened. She stepped back almost hesitantly, her mouth opening and closing several times as she looked Maya over. 

“What’re you doing here?” Maya blurted out. It was a stupid thing to say, but in her defence, she was still wrapping her mind around the fact that Riley was _here._ Only a foot away from her, close enough that Maya could smell Riley’s perfume — fresh and clean and fruity, strawberries if Maya had to guess. The scent cut through Maya’s annoyance, overwhelming enough that she nearly forgot that _Riley_ was the source of all of her overthinking today. But once she remembered, she huffed, crossing her arms, determined not to back down. 

Riley’s forehead wrinkled. She even looked side-to-side as if to ensure Maya was talking to her. “What am _I_ doing in Topanga’s?”

“That was the question, yes.”

“My mom is Topanga. Topanga of Topanga’s. She owns the bakery. You didn’t know that?”

“Not everyone pays extra attention to every detail of your life,” Maya scoffed, which translated to no, she absolutely did not know that. “You really are everywhere, you know that?”

“ _I’m_ everywhere? You’re in my dad’s class, and now in my mom’s bakery.”

“So what? You’re gonna tell me to stay away now?” It was another stupid thing to say, but she needed to say something back. She didn’t know why, but she just had to. She should shut up. She should turn back around. She shouldn’t be stepping into Riley’s space, holding her gaze as firmly as she was. Riley’s eyes were full of contempt, but they were also, just. Very brown. A bright rich brown. Maya had the exact shade of pencil crayon stuffed in one of her bedroom drawers.

“No. I’m not that kind of person. I don’t harass teachers or call girls I barely know stuck-up bitches.”

“No, you just call girls you barely know assholes who only care about some guy’s dick, right?” It was a weak shot, didn’t even count because Riley apologized for the dick comment. But Maya didn’t know what else to say. 

It still seemed to land. Riley’s mouth snapped shut, the contempt in her eyes replaced with hurt. She clenched her hands into fists. For one wild moment, Maya thought she was about to get punched.

But then Riley closed her eyes. Took a deep breath in, deep breath out. Lowered her shoulders, released her fists, smoothed her features into an eerily calm expression. Her eyes opened. A faint and entirely insincere smile spread across her lips. “I’m not doing this. Have a nice day, Maya.” 

Maya couldn’t do anything but stare uselessly as Riley, without a second glance at Maya, marched towards the boys. She flashed Zay and Lucas brief, polite smiles before tapping Farkle’s shoulder. “I’m gonna wait in your car. No rush, though, I don’t mind waiting.”

Farkle’s face twisted in confusion, but he shook his head and rose to his feet. “It’s fine, I’ll come with you. You don’t want to order anything?”

“Not really. I just want to go.”

“Yeah, of course. Let’s go.” Farkle smoothed his hands over his black jeans, nodding at Zay. “I’ll send you the pics when I’m home. See you in class tomorrow. Bye guys.”

Maya watched Riley lace her fingers with Farkle’s as the two walked out of the bakery. The bell attached to the door chimed with their departure.

“Sorry that took so long. Here’s your iced coffee, love.”

Her legs felt like weights as she made herself turn back around, thank the barista, and take her iced coffee back to her seat. 

“What was that all about?” Zay asked. 

She sank into her seat and forced a shrug. “It was nothing. We were both still pissed off from this morning, and I guess she couldn’t stand to be in the same space as me. That’s all.”

Lucas slowly nodded, his teeth caught between his lips. “Really?”

“Yup.” 

They both seemed to wait for her to elaborate. When she didn’t, they switched the topic, something about Zay wanting to drop his first-period physics class.

Maya tried tuning in, but she couldn’t focus. Her mind kept circling back to Riley, who could’ve fought back, thrown an insult at Maya when she had plenty of mean things she could’ve said that all would’ve been true, but didn’t. She just walked away. Maya could’ve never done that.

She usually prided herself on it. Sticking up for herself was always a good thing, and that was what she’d done. Wasn’t it?

Her stomach churned, heart still racing, unable to steady itself. _None of this and none of today means anything,_ she tried telling herself, but it was all a lie. She didn’t know what it all meant, but it meant something.

She sipped her iced coffee. It wasn’t bitter enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and a warm welcome to lucas, zay, and farkle! we got lots of friendship here, and the lovely maya & lucas & zay dynamic. not too much rilaya interaction in this chapter, but i promise that'll change soon. 
> 
> and with everything going on, i just wanted to send y'all all my love. stay safe.


	3. Chapter 3

That night, sleep didn’t come easily for a number of reasons.

The late September heat was unrelenting. It didn’t help that the AC broke in early July and still hadn’t been repaired. Katy had told her that she was too busy with her endless shifts at the diner to get it fixed. Maya understood the impulse to lie, but she wished that her mother trusted her with the truth — they couldn’t afford it right now. 

On top of that, Katy worked a graveyard shift. Four pm to four am. Twelve straight hours of waitressing. The diner she worked at was forty minutes away by subway, small and classic, with a neon sign and everything. Her shift meant that Maya spent the night completely alone. The silence was eerie and unwelcome, her only company her thoughts. 

It didn’t fucking help that she couldn’t stop thinking about things she didn’t want to think about. Riley Matthews was one of those things, yes, but also — dumb things. Like Matthews’s question of if she was okay. How things were at home and in her personal life. What he’d said about compassion, how sometimes all someone needed was to be asked if they were okay. 

A teacher never asked her that before. Never offered her that slither of compassion, the chance to explain her behaviour as not an indication of who she was, but what she was going through. Would it have changed anything, made even the slightest of differences? Would Maya be a better student or at least cared enough to try? Was it on her teachers who never offered help or on her for never asking for it?

She thought about her third-grade teacher. Mrs. Jackson. An older woman, late-fifties. Fading blonde hair with streaks of grey. Cold and unforgiving blue eyes. Maya remembered hating her and every second in that class. Looking back on it, it might’ve been more than her teacher that made that year so terrible. It _had_ been the year her dad left.

But still. Her teacher should’ve done something. It couldn’t have been normal for an eight-year-old to repeatedly scream in the middle of storytime every time the loving father entered the scene, or when they were asked to make Father’s Day cards. That had to have been a red flag. Someone should’ve said something, reached out, offered her a hand. 

And yet, each time this happened, eight-year-old Maya would be sent out to the hallway, forced to sit still in the principal’s office, or had a call sent home to her mom for acting out. Sometimes all three, in that order. Starting with Mrs. Jackson and everyone that followed, she was deemed a bad kid. Distracted, restless, loud, rude. Beyond help.

She was just a kid. She didn’t know how to ask for help. 

To this day, she still didn’t.

It didn’t really matter anymore. Nine years later, and Maya didn’t scream when watching that dad on _This Is Us_ , even if her chest tightened, and she didn’t scream on Father’s Day, even if she wanted to rip up every Hallmark card in sight when she reached the cards section at the dollar store. 

Sure, she was still the ‘bad’ kid. She maintained a C-minus average, and regularly skipped, was late to, and texted during her classes. But she didn’t overflow and leak with her feelings the same way, never cried or screamed or had fits about things that couldn’t be changed like a little girl. 

She had long since accepted that she didn’t have a dad. That she never would. She made peace with the fact that her dad just changed his mind one day and was allowed to leave her and her mom like it was nothing, like they were nothing. These things happened all the time. Bad fathers were everywhere. She wasn’t special for hers. 

And yet thoughts about it still haunted her, kept her up until three in the morning. She was still awake, staring at her ceiling, sweating underneath her blanket, thoughts about dads and the one she didn’t have flooding her mind. Her fucking brain refused to let her relax today. It kept giving her shit. It made her feel guilty about defending herself to a teacher whose name she didn’t even know until today, and then it made her feel guilty about defending herself again to that teacher’s annoying daughter, and right when she should have fallen asleep, it made her feel guilty about thinking about the asshole that walked out on her and her mom. Guilt was useless. What was done was done.

She didn’t want to think about it. She couldn’t. 

She rolled out of bed. Fiddled with her lamp until the light flickered on. Grabbed her sketchbook from her nightstand. Rifled through her bottom drawer to retrieve a pencil, a few pencil crayons.

On her mildly comfortable carpeted floor, she laid, stomach-down, with her feet kicked in the air. She would draw until calluses formed on her fingers, her thoughts fled her mind, her body finally succumbed to sleep. Until this nightmare of a day was put behind her. 

.

.

.

_Did I fucking fall asleep on the floor?_

Maya didn’t have to open her eyes to know the answer. The crick in her neck, the sharp ache in her back, and the pencil jamming into her side sufficed. 

But something soft cushioned her head, and as she rolled off of her stomach, her torso tangled with a soft fabric. Her eyes slowly opened. Underneath her head was one of her pillows, removed from her bed, and a blanket from elsewhere was strewn on top of her. 

She sat upright, clutching the blanket. Her thumb skated down the red and black checkered pattern. It was the blanket they kept in what they considered their living room — the small space on the other side of their small kitchen, consisting of a two-seat couch and their tiny television. Both Maya and Katy regularly fell asleep there, so they kept the blanket folded on the coffee table.

Katy must’ve checked up on her after coming home from her shift. She had to have put a pillow underneath her head and laid the blanket over her. 

A glance at her nightstand confirmed it. Her sketchbook wasn’t on the floor with its pages opened like Maya must’ve left it, but on the nightstand, underneath her lamp, the book shut with all of her pencils neatly lined on the blank brown cover. 

A pang of fondness struck her. She sat there for a few moments, early morning sunlight filtering in through her blinds, her blanket held tightly to her chest.

Eventually, she stood and crawled back into her bed. She could steal another hour of sleep. After five minutes of tossing and turning, however, she gave up, unable to drift back off. 

It was 5:51 AM. What the fuck was she supposed to do this early? Scowling, she chucked the pillow underneath her head at her alarm clock. It flew off of her nightstand. One of the knobs broke off.

Hopefully not an indication of how her day would go.

Unable to ignore the disgusting taste of her morning breath, she reluctantly rolled out of bed. Tiptoed to the washroom down the hall, mindful that her mother had only come home a few hours ago. Brushed her teeth. Washed her face. Stared into the mirror.

A brand new pimple formed in between her eyebrows. Dark bags underlined her eyes. Her lips were chapped and dry. Dried drool spotted her cheeks. When she pushed her knotted hair back, a fading hickey marked her collarbone from last weekend in Lucas’ apartment.

She looked as shitty as she felt.

After a quick shower, she got dressed. Black jeans, a loose white shirt, denim jacket with splotches of paint all over the sleeves of her arm. Though she had the time for it, she had none of the energy to put on any make-up. 

When she popped into the kitchen/living room, she found Katy fast asleep on the couch. Her snores were muffled by the couch cushion. She still wore her yellow and blue waitressing uniform. The television played an old SVU episode on low volume. A bowl of half-eaten salad sat on the coffee table.

Maya retrieved the checkered blanket from her room. Katy stirred but didn’t wake as Maya draped the blanket over her.

For breakfast, Maya wolfed down Katy’s unfinished dinner, even though the croutons were hard to bite into and the dressing had dried. She made a quick sandwich for lunch while watching the second half of that SVU episode.

It was a quarter to seven when she finished making her lunch. She had some time.

And a very stupid idea.

.

.

.

Abigail Adams High School was always open by at least 7:20 AM.

Maya only knew this because of Zay’s grievances over his early morning football practices. The season hadn’t started yet. She anticipated his annual complaints about his tyrannical coach who, quoting Zay, “was delusional if he thought he could get twenty teenaged boys to come to school an hour before school actually started.” Maya agreed with him, and now here she was, doing exactly what Zay’s coach expected him to do: come to school an hour before it started.

It only occurred to Maya after ten minutes on the subway that just because the school was open didn’t necessarily mean Matthews would be there too. He could show up ten minutes before class, ruin the whole thing. She wouldn’t have the nerve to do what she’d planned if that was the case and would have to sulk around in the hallways for a while before class started.

But there was no going back. She was already on her way.

At least she knew that regardless, she’d be on time for class. Matthews better be delighted. 

She shortly arrived at the school. Strolling down the empty hallways, she started to regret her decision. Showing up this early for school wasn’t who Maya Hart was. She didn’t even have her usual iced coffee from the McDonalds across the street, her hands uncomfortably empty without having to nurse the cold drink.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out. She turned down the hall, starting towards the wing where the senior History and English classes were held. _I have nothing to be afraid of,_ she told herself. _You’re just going to have a conversation. You know how to have conversations._

As soon as that thought entered her mind, memories from yesterday popped up. Her three conversations with Riley Matthews that ended with Riley pissed at something Maya said.

_Okay, you kind of know how to have conversations. You got at least one Matthews to not hate you. That has to count for something._

Did it?

She approached her classroom, room 214. Her trembling fist raised and rapped twice on the door in quick succession. 

Footsteps sounded from across the door. Maya’s heart sped up. She willed herself to keep her feet planted to the floor and to fight the instinct to turn around and run like hell as the footsteps grew louder.

The door opened. Matthews stood on the other side, a mug of coffee in one hand, the other still clutching the doorknob. His eyebrows lifted in pleasant surprise. He wore one of his usual Teacher Blazers with a black and blue checkered shirt underneath. He was so consistent like that. This was Maya’s first semester with him, but she had seen him around the halls since she was a freshman, and he always wore something like that.

“Miss Hart! Good morning.”

“Morning.”

“You’re here quite early.” 

She shrugged, hooking her thumb underneath the strap of her backpack. “I figured since I’ve been late all those times, I’d make it up. Be extra, extra early. That’s how it works, right?”

“Right.” Something in his face shifted, smoothed his wrinkled forehead. He released the doorknob and gestured for her to step further inside. “What can I do for ya?”

She swallowed past the lump in her throat. Her gaze dropped, eyes following the white tiles in front of her as she entered the classroom. She’d never seen it this empty or this early. It was less lively and animated, much like Matthews whose energy was calmer now that they weren’t in class, but she liked the stillness of it. She could make out the details of the classroom better. The globe atop the shelf in the back corner. A world map on the left wall surrounded by posters for school clubs, information about the guidance counsellor, and deadlines for college and university applications. At the sight of the deadlines, she quickly looked away, redirecting her focus to the blackboard.

In big, chalky letters, read **FIRST PROJECT OF THE SEMESTER! WOO :)**

“A smiley face? Really?” Maya made a face.

“How is the smiley face worse than the woo?”

“It’s not, I just have to be selective about the things I make fun of. Can’t make fun of everything or you lose your energy, right?”

“I guess I can —”

“I’m not here to make fun of you and your weird teacher quirks,” she blurted out. Her eyes widened, dread rattling inside of her. She’d never done this before, not quite sure that she knew how to. 

But if she stopped speaking now, she would lose her nerve. She would rather get embarrassed over having done it than get embarrassed over being too scared not to. “Yesterday, you asked me a question. You asked if I was okay. I didn’t answer, because, at the moment, I thought, well, yeah, obviously I’m fine. I’m great. Life is great, it’s always been great. But —”

Her breath hitched. She couldn’t meet Matthews’s eyes for this next part, so she stared past his head, at his chalk smiley-face. “Then I got to thinking. Or just — feeling? Paying attention to what I feel, and how I don’t really like it that much, but I can’t pinpoint what’s wrong, and I don’t know what’s wrong, but now I feel like something is, and if — if you were to ask me that question now, I wouldn’t know how to answer it. But if someone asks you if you’re okay, and you can’t say yes, then isn’t that an automatic no?”

Her chest felt tight like it would burst open but in equal measure, her shoulders were lighter, her limbs looser. Her mind couldn’t comprehend that she really just did that.

Embarrassment didn’t overwhelm her as she’d expected. Some shame, maybe, hot and white sparks, but also a breathless kind of wonder. Her mind couldn’t comprehend that she really just did that, but she did it. 

She searched Matthews’s eyes for pity, but all she found was patience, kindness. He smiled faintly, motioning for her to sit in the middle column’s front seat. Riley’s seat, Maya realized absurdly.

“Would you like to take a seat?”

“Um. Yeah. Sure. Okay.” She pulled the chair out and sat, every one of her muscles hyper-aware that this seat unofficially belonged to Riley. She hooked her backpack around the back of her seat. Her throat was painfully dry, but she didn’t have her usual iced coffee and sure as hell didn’t own a water bottle.

Meanwhile, he sat behind his desk. He clasped his hands together. Maya felt like she was about to be scolded, even though she knew she wasn’t. Probably because the only other time she ever sat this close to a teacher and had a one-on-one conversation _was_ when she was getting scolded.

Matthews didn’t seem like the scolding type. Even when she was her usual sunny and lovely self yesterday, he didn’t yell or tell her what she was doing was unacceptable as if she didn’t already know that. He didn’t make her feel small. Based on what little she knew about him, he seemed like he existed as a teacher to make his students feel big, bigger than they’ve ever felt.

If that was the case, then he had a hell of a challenge sitting in front of him.

“So,” he started. “I’m really glad you're talking about what you’re feeling and felt comfortable enough to talk to me. I know that can’t be easy.”

She nodded, repeatedly crossing and uncrossing her leg.

“It sounds like you’re not really sure what’s wrong, just that something is wrong?”

She nodded again.

“Can you try and describe it?”

“Describe the feeling or what’s going on?”

He shrugged, offering a warm smile. “Whichever. It might help to just word-vomit. Eventually, something you say will make sense to what you’re feeling.”

She picked at her fingernail, scratching her thumb over her fading red nail polish. “But I don’t know. I don’t, I don’t feel good. About anything. About mys —” She cut herself, but there wasn’t much use. He knew what she was about to say. She knew what she was about to say. She smiled self-deprecatingly. “You got a pep-talk up your sleeve that’ll fix all of that?”

“That’s a big one,” he admitted. “The biggest one. Honestly, Maya, I don’t know if I do have the perfect pep-talk because I don’t think a pep-talk can fix it.”

“So what can?” Maya bristled. She sat upright, energized with a newfound irritation. “How do I fix it? I swear, I have one stupid fight with your fucking daughter and not even a full day later and everything just looks and feels so different. And you!”

“Me?” He frowned, clutching his chest.

“Yes, you! You ask, is everything okay at home, Miss Hart, are your classes okay, Miss Hart, and only after that for the first time in seventeen years do I realize that no! None of it is okay. I mean, I knew, but I was okay with that, and now I’m not! And I blame you!” She was suddenly standing and pointing and yelling, her voice cracking horribly.

And Matthews didn’t even blink.

“I blame you,” she repeated. “Did you not just hear me say I blame —”

“Oh, I heard you,” he said, frustratingly calm.

“Then yell at me!”

“Maya,” he said gently. “I’m not going to yell. Why should I? You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Yes, I have!” She ground her jaw, her insides burning. How didn’t he get it? Everything she’d done and everything she was was just wrong. She could do so much better. She could be such a better student in school, a better daughter to her mom, a better whatever to Lucas, a better friend to Zay. She blew up at Riley, and over what? Her rightfully calling Maya’s behaviour out?

She had wasted so much time. She could’ve been so much _more_ , she could’ve been something instead of the bitter and spiteful person she was now, but it was too late for her.

It was too late.

“Maya,” Matthews tried again. He was so nice. He had probably changed so many lives, gave so many hopeless students hope. She would be his first lost cause.

The only first she would ever get.

“I’m sorry,” was all that came out. In one swift motion, she leapt out of her chair and made a beeline towards the door.

“Maya, you have nothing to be sorry for, we can figure it out, you don’t have —”

But she twisted the doorknob. Another apology tumbled past her lips, breathless and soaked in remorse. “I just can’t do it. I, I can’t.” She tried opening the door but was met with resistance.

For the second time today, the door to the history classroom opened, and on the other side of Maya was a Matthews.

Riley appeared confused, almost disoriented at the sight of Maya. Her long brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail again, but messier with a few strands out of place, framing her face. Her skin glowed pink with sweat. She wore their school’s cheerleading uniform, her long legs underneath her bright red skirt. She looked —

Maya didn’t let herself look.

“What’re you doing here?” Riley straightened her shoulders, jutted her chin out, even more annoying in her cheerleading uniform. 

Spiting Riley was an incredibly stupid form of motivation, especially when five seconds ago, all Maya wanted was to run out of the classroom and not look back. But now, what she wanted was to stand her ground, look Riley right in the eye, and wipe that defensive look off her face.

So that was what she would do.

“I’m having a conversation with your dad,” Maya said. “A private conversation.”

Riley glanced behind Maya at Matthews, raising an eyebrow. “Is she serious?”

Maya rolled her eyes. “ _She_ is standing right in front of you. You don’t have to pretend like I’m not here.”

“I do, for the sake of my own mental health, but it never works because —”

“I can’t do this again,” Matthews cut in. “To answer your question, Riley, yes, Maya and I were having a private question. Did you need something? Is it urgent?”

Maya kept her grin small. She tilted her head to the side, matching Riley’s raised eyebrow with one of her own. “Is it?”

Riley side-stepped past Maya to stand in front of her father. “It’s quick.” She held a small scrap of paper in one hand and thrust it into Matthews’s hands. “Small permission form for this field trip we’re taking. Missy organized this full-day workshop with a choreographer.” 

“A choreographer?” Matthews pulled a pen from his pocket and scribbled his signature at the bottom.

“Don’t get me started.” Riley paused before she looked over her shoulder, her eyes narrowed slightly at Maya. “What? No snarky comment?”

“What was it that you said yesterday? _I don’t have the time for this?”_ In reality, Maya found it incredibly stupid, because it _was_ incredibly stupid. Abigail Adams’s cheerleading team didn’t even compete outside of school. They only performed at sports games and at pep rallies. But she refused to rise to Riley’s bait. “Well, I don’t have time for this. Get your permission form signed and fu —” She looked over at Matthews who winced. “Piss off?”

“Better, but. I mean. You know that you still shouldn’t be saying that in front of me, right?” Matthews said. “Or to a fellow classmate. Respect is the utmost —”

“Oh my god,” Maya and Riley said. 

Maya felt a stab of betrayal, disappointed at herself for thinking _and_ saying the same thing as Riley. She crossed her arms and decided not to acknowledge it, quickly adding, “I respect her. I just don’t like her.”

Riley scoffed. “For no good reason. She refuses to look past her biases and her first impression of me —”

“Do you know what hypocrisy is?”

“Are you forgetting that my first impression of you was you snapping at my dad for asking for a late slip, something he’s obligated to do as a teacher when a student is, oh, I don’t know, _late?”_

“... I wasn’t _that_ late.”

“You were twenty minutes late.”

“Since when do we judge people by their _punctuality_ —”

“We don’t! I’m very clearly judging you by your rude —”

“Oh no.” Matthews stood from his chair, wildly waving around Riley’s permission form. “We’re not doing this again. You two have to find a way to deal with each other. I’m not saying you have to be best friends or even like each other. You’re entitled to your feelings, but you’re not entitled to arguing and insulting each other, _especially_ not in class again. A big part of growing up is recognizing that the things you want to do aren’t necessarily the things that you should do. You may see each other, and, um, want to say mean things, but that doesn’t mean you should. How’s that sound?”

“I want to give you my honest answer, but sometimes the things you want to do aren’t always the things you should do. So I won’t.” Maya smiled brightly. “See, I’m taking your advice.”

Matthews’s mouth wasn’t smiling, but his eyes were. “I’m taking that as a win. Riley?”

Riley’s shoulders stiffened as she took the slip from Matthews’s hands. “Sounds great, Dad. I’ll see you when first-period starts.” She turned around and made her way across the classroom and out the door without a spare glance at Maya.

“I think she really likes me,” Maya joked. As soon as her eyes locked with Matthews’s, she was reminded that only a few minutes ago, she was ready to bolt out of the room, stopped only by Riley coming in at that exact moment. “Um. I don’t. I’m, uh, sorry? About that. About all of it. The bitching at your daughter, almost running out, for saying I blame you. I really don’t.”

“Maya, it’s —”

“Oh! And I’m also sorry about yesterday. I should’ve. I should’ve been on time.” She braved a look at Matthews’s. Upon the small welcoming smile on her face, a long exhale left her. “So yeah. Sorry. Should I — should I go?”

“Do you want to? We can keep talking.”

“Are you sure?” She hated how her voice shook, how it was easier for her to talk back to well-meaning teachers than it was to accept their help.

“Absolutely.”

Maya gingerly returned to her spot at Riley’s seat. She thrummed her fingers along the edge of the desk, her thumb tracing the elaborate ‘S’ carved in. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course,” Matthews said softly.

“I think there’s something wrong with me.”

“Well, I can assure you that there’s nothing wrong with you. _You_ are not the problem.”

“No offence, but it’s hard to believe that from a teacher who barely knows me.”

“That’s fair. What do you think is wrong with you, then?”

“Is everything too broad of an answer? I just. I don’t know where to start.”

“Start anywhere. Whatever you’re most comfortable with?”

Maya leaned back into her seat, scratching her neck. “Um. School? I wish I was better. I know, education’s important or whatever, but it’s never meant anything to me, and now that it’s senior year, it has to be too late for me. This is the worst time to have a big realization about how school actually does matter, but — I don’t know. It’d be nice to go to college, maybe. Or at least try. But I don’t know how to.” She felt like a little kid again, her voice small and hesitant. As she fiddled with her fingers, she berated herself for even thinking about college. Her grades were irredeemable. She didn’t know what she expected Matthews to do. 

“It’s never too late.” Matthews sounded sincere. “If you’re really determined and you’re willing to apply yourself, it’s possible. Won’t be easy, but I’ve seen students get to this point you’ve arrived at during their senior year too. They worked hard enough and they pulled through. You’re capable of the same. It helps if you’re taking the right classes for you.”

“The right classes?”

“Classes you have a genuine interest in. It’ll make going to classes much more enjoyable, and things like studying for tests and completing assignments will actually be fun.”

“Fun and school. Interesting combination of words,” Maya said, but his words got the gears of her mind turning. “Um. Well, I’m taking all four classes this semester, no spares. History, Phys-Ed, English, and Calculus. But Calculus, it, well. I know you don’t want us to swear in front of you, but I feel it’s appropriate this time because saying _calculus is boring_ doesn’t do justice to how _fucking_ boring it really is. I don’t know what’s happening. Or why I’m taking it. Or why it exists as a subject.” 

“That’s my general opinion about math too,” Matthews admitted with a hint of a smile. “Well, you still have until Friday to transfer classes. If you’re looking for a last-period class to make an easy switch to without disrupting the rest of your schedule, I know that period has twelfth-grade Physics, Accounting, Computer Science, Visual Design —”

Maya’s eyes lit up. “Visual Design’s like art, right?”

“Yup. You do need the prerequisite though. Have you taken the class before?”

Her face fell, what little hope she had crushed as quickly as it came to be. “No, I haven’t.”

“Do you regularly draw?”

“Um. Yeah, actually. I have a sketchbook and a bunch that are already filled in my room.”

“I’m sure if you showed Ms. Middleton some of your work, she’d allow you in. She’s done it before.”

She tried not to get her hopes up, but his eager nod made it difficult. “Are you sure? One-hundred percent positive?”

“Not one-hundred percent, but seventy, eighty percent, maybe? I’m confident. It’s worth a shot either way. Grab the transfer sheet from the guidance office, speak to Miss Middleton during lunch, then speak to your calculus teacher, make sure they, along with your guardian, sign the form, and you should be good.”

An art class. A real, proper art class where she could draw and paint for a full semester and get graded on it.

“I take it you really like art, huh?”

Maya looked up at the sound of Matthews’s voice. She didn’t notice she was smiling until he pointed it out. “It passes the time,” she said, and god, she could even hear the smile in her _voice_. Her cheeks ached with it. “I love it. I really love it.”

“Then there we go! Easy A in that class. As for your other classes, I mean, the school provides tutoring sessions. And for history specifically, I’m always here every Tuesday and Friday after school for about an hour for any students who have questions or want to work on history with me present. You’re always welcome to drop in.”

“I’ll consider it,” she said slowly, surprised when she found that she meant it. 

“Did any of that help? I know what you’re dealing with is much bigger than school, and —”

“It helped. Trust me, it helped.”

He leaned back into his chair, a small smile on his face. “I’m really glad to hear it.”

The weight of their conversation finally hit her, how much she told him, how much he offered her in return. “Thank you.” It wasn’t enough, didn’t even begin to describe what his efforts meant to her, but it was all she had. “I just, thank you.”

His face lifted into a smile. “Anytime. But give yourself some credit too. It’s not easy asking for help, but you did it.”

.

.

.

Shortly after, Matthews excused himself. He had a quick meeting with the other history teachers but told Maya that she could stay in the classroom if she wanted before he left. 

Only twenty minutes remained until the first-period started, so she stayed. She went on her phone, flipping between Instagram and Twitter until she lost track of time in Candy Crush.

Soon enough, the rest of her classmates started to arrive. Maya felt extremely out of place. This was the earliest she’d ever gotten to class and it was only yesterday when she had her arguments with both Matthews. As more and more students came in, several of them eyed her. She even heard her name in the whisperings at the very back of the room followed by hushed giggling.

The first time it happened, she bit her lip, hard enough that she drew blood. The second time it happened, she clenched her jaw, biting back the words she wanted to yell. The third time it happened, she was completely fucking over it.

She shot around in her seat. Mouth half-opened and face twisted in a scowl, she was ready to raise hell.

Only to lose her train of thought at the sight of Riley, who appeared to have just entered the classroom. 

She stood behind Maya’s seat. Her hand hovered above her chair to pull it out. At the intense look on Maya’s face, she frowned. Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

Maya froze. Then very slowly, she turned back around until her back faced Riley and she could bite her fist to keep from _screaming._

“What were you talking to my dad about?”

She truly didn’t understand why Riley kept _speaking_ to her. She was good at getting other students to stay out of her way, and most of the time she’d never have to speak to them to do it. Never had anyone been so persistent to speak to her like Riley. It was insufferable.

“None of your business,” Maya snapped. 

Two fingers tapped her shoulder. “Then why —”

“ _Oh my god._ ” Maya whipped around. She gripped the back of her seat, practically seething as she spat out, “Are you your dad’s fucking keeper?”

Riley blinked. Maya got a proper look at her — she still wore her cheerleading uniform, but she had let her hair down, long brown and seemingly soft hair tumbling down her shoulders. Her pink lipgloss was faint. Maya was close enough that she caught sight of it. Riley looked like one of those cheerleaders from those early ’00 chick flicks; she sure as hell acted like one.

“I was going to ask why you ran out of the classroom looking like —” Riley glanced around at the mostly-filled classroom, ensuring that no one paid them any attention. She leaned in, close enough that Maya could smell her, her scent a mix of strawberries and Topanga’s fresh coffee. “— looking like you were about to cry.”

Maya didn’t let herself falter. Even if what Riley said and the truth of it shook her, she refused to let it show. She arched a single eyebrow, hoping her dry smile wouldn’t wobble. “It almost sounds like you care, Matthews.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” She said it so easily. Her brown eyes became even brighter with the sunlight pouring in to the classroom from the opened blinds and framing her face. Her face was open and honest, almost like she meant it. 

Maya didn’t know what to say.

Luckily, the one sign that the world didn’t completely hate Maya Hart arrived. At that exact moment, the bell rang and Matthews walked. Time for the national anthem and the morning announcements. Right after, an entire period of listening to Matthews. Then, the rest of Maya’s day where she wouldn’t have to see Riley fucking Matthews again.

Perfect.

.

.

.

Except it wasn’t perfect! Of course not! Why would it be? Why would any part of Maya’s life go the way she wanted it to? Scratch that crock of shit about the world not entirely hating Maya, because it did and she was so _fucked_ and —

It started, as most things did these days, at the beginning of history class.

“I’m sure as you could all tell from the board, it’s time for our first project of the class!” Matthews announced brightly. He grabbed a stack of sheets from his desk, gave it a small shake. “It’ll be research-based and the objective is what we talked about last week. How history isn’t in the past, but in everything we do and are today. It’s pretty straightforward. Pick an event of the past, talk its long term impact and its relevance in today’s society. There are more criteria on this handout that I’ll pass out in just a second, but that’s the gist of it. Let’s start this semester on a high note! You get to decide your topics and your form of presentation.” 

A hand shot up in the back.

“Yes, Yogi?”

“But do we get to choose our partners?”

A gear turned in Maya’s mind. She sat upright, carefully eyeing Matthews’s grimace at the question.

“You’ll get to choose your partners next time, I promise,” Matthews said.

The class groaned. A few people started speaking at the same time, some to each other, some to Matthews, but Riley spoke the loudest.

“Oh my god. You did something. What did you do?”

Matthews chuckled nervously and ignored Riley’s question. He slapped the stack of papers in his hand. “Let’s talk more about the assignment! I’m assuming you all want to know who your partners are, right?”

The class erupted in yes’s.

Matthews smiled. He lowered the stack back onto his desk and flipped the first page. “Alright. I’m going to read the pairs off. Please don’t get up and move until after we’ve gone through everyone’s groups and have talked about the project as a class, okay? Alright, the first set of partners are —”

Maya listened to Matthews go through most of the partners, waiting for her name to be called. It was pointless. She already half-knew. She just needed to hear it.

“Maya and Riley.”

Great. Exactly what she needed. More time with Riley Matthews.

“Plot twist,” Riley grumbled from behind Maya. At least Maya wasn’t the only one displeased by their partner.

Matthews continued to list off the chosen pairs. “Charlie and —”

A knock at the door interrupted him. Maya lifted her head at the sound of the noise. When her eyes caught sight of the person at the door, she couldn’t stop the embarrassingly large smile that spread across her mouth.

“Sorry to interrupt.” Zay grinned his dazzlingly bright grin. He leaned against the doorframe, holding a blue sheet of paper to his chest. A transfer slip. “But I think you’re my homeroom teacher now.” His eyes scanned the classroom and found Maya. He winked.

She rolled her eyes but grinned back. In the four years they had known each other, they’ve only ever shared one other class. Ninth grade Spanish. Lucas wasn’t in the class, placed in the fourth-period Spanish class instead of the second-period class with them. 

She had fond memories of that class. Chill teacher, an easy A (which looked extremely out of place on her report card among the C’s and D’s). Spending all that time with Zay, making terrible puns in Spanish, and getting to know each other, affirmed to her that he didn’t just like her because Lucas did. They were actually kind of friends. And for fourteen-year-old Maya, still adjusting to the ocean that was high school, that meant a lot.

It still did.

Zay handed Matthews his transfer slip.

Matthews skimmed the sheet before he welcomed Zay with a smile. “Glad to have you! Welcome to twelfth-grade history, Isaiah.”

“I go by Zay, actually.”

“Zay it is. We haven’t done too much, but I can catch you up right now. At the moment, we’re going through our first project. Let me just call out the last pair of partners, and —” He directed his attention back to the class. “I’ll pass the sheets off, you guys sit with your partner, and just get well-acquainted, okay? You guys can talk ideas, but I’m not expecting anything to be done by today, so don’t stress yourselves out. Oh, and the last group will be Charlie and Yogi. I’ll add Zay to your group. Sound good?”

“Sounds great, teach,” Charlie called from the back.

Matthews passed the stack to the first student in the very first row then joined Zay in the corner of the class to talk.

Chairs scraped against the floor. Chatter immediately broke out as everyone joined their respective partners. 

Maya sighed. Turning around, she looked anywhere but Riley’s eyes. She glanced down, spotted Riley’s long legs bouncing up and down with her fingers repeatedly folding and unfolding the edge of her skirt. 

“So you’re a cheerleader,” Maya heard herself say. It had to be the dumbest thing she could’ve said, next to _so you’re Matthews’s daughter?_ But the silence between them kept stretching. They would have to break it at some point to work on this fucking project.

Riley’s head snapped up. Her legs went still. “Um. Yeah. What gave it away?”

“You’re wearing —”

“That was a joke.” Riley tugged lightly on the red strap of her uniformed top. “I know I’m wearing my uniform. I’m not stupid.”

“I didn’t say you were,” Maya gritted out.

“You were thinking about it.”

“So you’re a mind reader now?”

“Yup,” Riley deadpanned. “Don’t tell anyone. It’s my secret superpower. Aside from being a stuck-up bitch, of course.”

“Hate to break it to you, but the last one isn’t so secret.”

Riley’s frustrated scoff was way more satisfying than it should be. Maya flashed her a smile, all sharp and with teeth. 

“Do you like being an asshole?” Riley finally got out.

“You just make it _so_ easy.”

“You can’t be an asshole to me if we’re going to get a good mark on this project, and I’m not letting you ruin my grade before the semester’s even started. Put aside whatever problem you have with me so we get a good grade. Alright?”

Whatever irritated retort she was expecting from Riley wasn’t that. Her throat dried as she slowly nodded. “Well, if your GPA is at stake, then of course. What’s more important, right?”

“Are you serious?”

“What the fuck did I even say that was so —”

“You’re acting like caring about my GPA is a bad thing!”

“No, I’m not! Tell me, did you stretch before making that reach?”

“Obviously I stretched, I had cheerleading practice this morning —”

“That was a rhetorical question — yeah, I know big words too! — and I get it, you’re a cheerleader. As if the bright red uniform and your perky attitude weren’t big enough clues!”

“Acting like you’re too cool for things isn’t a personality trait, you know.”

“Neither is acting all self-righteous like you’re better than everyone else. Get off your high horse, Matthews.”

“You first, Hart.”

A low whistle came from over Maya’s shoulder. For one awfully long second, she feared that the entire class listened to their argument, Matthews included.

But no, everyone else busied themselves with their partners, oblivious to Riley and Maya’s quarrel. In the back of the classroom, Matthews answered a short redheaded boy’s question.

The whistler in question, Zay, unsuccessfully attempted to stifle his laugh. He sat in the empty seat next to Riley. “You guys are intense. Should I even bother asking y’all not to kill each other?”

“She’s the one that needs the warning, not me.” Riley crossed her arms, leaning in her seat. Her eyes narrowed at Maya. “So small, yet so angry.”

Zay’s eyebrows raised in surprise as he laughed. “I know, right?”

Maya shot Zay an irritated look before she scowled at Riley. “I’m not small.”

Riley smiled like Maya was a young child who said something cute and naive. “Sure, partner. Whatever you say.”

Maya's nose wrinkled. “Don’t call me partner. You’re not a cowboy.”

“She’s not Friar,” Zay said.

“She’s not you, either, Texan,” Maya said.

Riley sat up, angling herself towards Zay. “Oh! I didn’t know you were from Texas, Zay.”

Zay glared at Maya. “Why do you hate me?”

“Do most people not know you’re from Texas?” Maya asked.

“Is that something you’d wave around proudly? Friar can’t help it since he was new and his accent’s way thicker than mine, but I have dignity, you know.”

“You _had_ dignity,” Maya corrected. She laughed at how quickly Zay’s expression soured. “Relax. Matthews won’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t,” Riley said sincerely. “But there’s nothing to be ashamed of. Where you from isn’t who you are, you know.”

Maya should probably shut up right now, especially considering how Zay’s eyes lit up as though Riley’s words resonated. But Maya was Maya, so she didn’t. “Do you always talk like you’re a character in the last five minutes of _Full House_ having an emotional but unearned heart-to-heart?”

“I take zero offence to that,” Riley said. “And you know you basically just openly admitted to watching _Full House_?”

“I take zero offence to that,” Maya parroted back.

“ _Wow._ I’m going to have so much fun in this class.” Zay pointed to his desk. “I can sit here, right? Have a front-row view of this shit-fest?”

“Seat’s been empty since the semester started, so of course. It’s all yours,” Riley told him with a polite smile, which immediately fell off her face when she looked at Maya. “Speaking of seats, can I have mine back?”

“So Zay can sit wherever he wants, but I can’t?”

“You want to sit in the very front of the class?”

Not for the first time, and, even more frustratingly, and what probably wouldn’t be the last time, Maya’s face heated up as she struggled to think of a response to Riley. Let Riley know that she had a point? No way.

But she really didn’t want to sit in the front.

“If you want to remain close to your dad, then who am I to stop you?” Maya finally replied.

Riley smirked. Maya wanted to throw something at her.

But before they could switch seats, Matthews returned to the front of the classroom. He wanted to talk more about the assignment, answer any questions.

Maya tried paying attention. But then she accidentally picked up her pencil and accidentally doodled a full page in her history notes. Whoops.

Though Matthews eventually stole back all of her attention when he pointed behind Maya. “Yes, Riley?”

Maya's grip on her pencil tightened.

“How will we be graded?” Riley asked. “The write-up is individual, obviously, but will the presentation and final product be graded as a group or individually?”

“Good question. Presentation — so your body language, volume, eye contact, all that fun stuff — will be individual, but the product itself is a group mark. And some parts of the research, like your citations.”

No one had any other questions, so Matthews granted them the last ten minutes of the class to chill out.

Maya glanced over her shoulder, caught Riley’s eyes. “Worried that I’ll drag your precious GPA down?”

“ _No.”_ Riley looked annoyed, offended even, at the insinuation. Her face lifted into a bright smile. “You should be excited, though, because I’ll definitely bring yours up.”

Maya didn’t bother dignifying that with a response above a quick eye-roll. She returned to her doodling. She would talk to Zay, but he sat at the back of the classroom now. He was speaking to one of his project partners, Charlie, who was also one of his teammates from the football team.

The moment she picked her pencil back up, her mind quieted. The idea of spending an entire semester making art thrilled her in a way nothing else did. She would excel in the class. She knew it. And maybe, if she seriously tried, she could do just as well in the rest of her classes.

She didn’t entertain the thought for too long, allowing herself to get lost in her drawing. It brought her into her own bubble away from stupid history projects and annoying cheerleaders and deadbeat dads and college. All that existed right now were her, her pencil, and her notebook.

She resumed her drawing from before Matthews interrupted the class. It was just a pair of eyes, something she had drawn a million times but would never get bored of. She shaded the iris. She used her pencil, but if she had her pencil crayons, the eyes would be brown. Very brown. A bright rich brown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally! maya opening up to our favourite history teacher! the project! only took nearly 20k to get there. slow progress. 
> 
> i'd love to know your thoughts!! and i do hope you're all staying well and safe. the world sucks and everything is terrible, but we are not in this alone. 
> 
> until next time! take care. <3


	4. Chapter 4

“Is something wrong?”

Maya rolled over to the other side to face Lucas, inadvertently getting his bedsheets twisted around her. Her skin was hot and flushed all over. His bedsheets stuck to her skin, but she didn’t bother peeling it off of her. “No, you were fine.”

“Fine,” Lucas repeated with a snort. He pulled his boxers up then crawled next to her in his bed. His mattress dipped with his weight as he sprawled out on his back. He laid close enough that she heard his breathing clearly, still heavy and a little uneven. But they weren’t close enough that they touched. “Thank you for your high praise.”

“What? You _were_ fine. I finished, you finished. What more do you want from me?”

“You sure know your way to a guy’s heart.”

“Ah, my number one priority in life.” She flipped him off.

He lifted the pillow from underneath his head and whacked her arm with it. “You didn’t answer my question.”

She tried grabbing the pillow from him, but he held it out of reach. She settled on kicking his calf. “I did! I said you were fine.”

“I wasn’t asking how the sex was. I was asking, you know.”

“I don’t know.”

“How are _you?_ You seem ... off. Quieter. Like you’re stuck in your head.”

She stared up at his ceiling, her arms crossed over her chest. His question absurdly made her feel naked as if she already wasn’t underneath his bedsheets. Her mouth opened. No sound came out. 

The bed creaked. He inched closer, tilting his head until he was in her line of vision. “C’mon, Hart.”

“I’m fine. It was just a shit day at school, alright?” She didn’t mention her heart-to-heart with Matthews or getting paired with Riley for a project; she didn’t even know what she would say about it, this entire morning surreal, already foggy in her memory. “Seriously, it’s nothing. Don’t waste any time worrying, okay?”

There was still a crease between his eyebrows. Before he could call her out on her obvious lie, she surged forward and kissed him hard. He fell back against the bed and with the hands he wrapped around the small of her back, she came falling down with him too. 

They kissed and kissed and kissed. Whatever she searched for, she wasn’t going to find it on Lucas Friar’s tongue. That didn’t stop her from looking there anyway. He laid, steady and solid like he always was, underneath her. He didn’t push or pull, understanding the simple pleasure of a mouth against a mouth. She appreciated that. She appreciated _him._

She pressed her palm against his chest. “Hey,” she said after he pulled back. Strands of her hair fell into her face when she looked down at him. “You good for round two?”

“Nah, I’m spent.” His green eyes caught a glint. “But if you’re not, then I can take care of that.”

“How chivalrous of you. But I’m good. I should probably get going.” She climbed off of Lucas’ lap and off of his bed, scanning the room for her clothes.

He sat up, leaning against his headboard. “You hungry?”

“Is that another double entendre?”

“What — _ew._ I have better lines than that.”

She picked her jeans up from the floor and shimmied into them. “You really don’t, but it’s okay. You make up for it with energy.”

“Gee, thanks. But I literally mean are you hungry. As in, do you want food? Jo won’t be back for another hour and a half.”

“Food,” Maya repeated. 

“Yes, food. Not sex. I’m capable of more than that, shockingly.” 

He was joking, his smile entirely playful, but it hit her right in the gut. She stopped searching for her shirt and dug deep for a little bit of courage to say, uncomfortably but entirely serious: “I know that. You know I know that, right?”

“And you know I was just kidding, right?”

“I _know,_ but —”

“Are you blushing?”

“What? No. I’m not.” Yes, she was. “Stop looking at me.”

“You’re totally blushing!”

“And you are _not_ making fun of me, Friar, or I’ll —”

“I’m definitely making fun of you.”

She turned around, facing his door instead of him. “You’re so annoying. Oh my god, how am I regularly sleeping with you —”

“I hope by now you’d know _how.”_ His voice came closer. When she turned around, she found him standing right in front of her with an amused smile on his face. “You were about to say something nice, weren’t you?”

“I was, but now I’m not,” she said resolutely. “I might. If you, uh, give me whatever food you were offering.”

“Ramen sounds good?”

“Sounds fucking _great.”_

Half an hour later, Maya sat next to Lucas in his living room. His television sat a few feet in front of them, playing a rerun of an episode of _Friends_. She had her legs crossed on the red, cushiony two-seat sofa that Lucas and his older sister Jo bought at a flea market. They bought it last year and since then have added half a dozen stains to it, all made by Lucas.

Maya held the plate containing her bowl of soup with her hand underneath it. “You know,” she said, her eyes glued to the screen, “this actually isn’t that bad.” 

“I’m going to ignore how unreasonably _surprised_ you sound and take it as a compliment.”

“As you should!”

To the Ramen, Lucas added a bunch of ingredients — chopped lots of vegetables Maya honestly couldn’t all recognize, added some sauce thing, whatever, she wasn’t a gourmet chef — and it honestly tasted good. 

As Maya drank more of Lucas’ soup, she thought about this moment, what they were doing together. They both sat next to each other, close enough that she could feel his body heat and her knee almost touched his. She wore one of his shirts, a fading Clipper’s t-shirt three sizes too big for her. She couldn’t find her t-shirt from the mess of his clothes on his bedroom floor, so he gave her his and promised he’d find her shirt for her later. It was quiet save for the episode and the canned laughter that followed each joke. She was eating something he prepared for her.

This should be nice. 

“Oh,” Lucas said halfway through the episode. He lowered his plate onto his lap. “I forgot to tell you. Zay’s having a thing at his place tomorrow night. And you’re coming. Right?”

“Isn’t it pretty last-minute to be throwing a party? Plus, his parents are usually home early on Fridays, aren’t they?”

“It’s not a party. It’s a kickback.”

“Will there be beer?”

“Obviously.”

“And Zay’s friends, all million of them will be there?”

“Pretty much.”

“So it’s a party.”

“ _Kickback_ ,” Lucas stressed. “He swears it’ll be low-key, just a little, fuck yeah, we’re in senior year type-of-thing. No more than thirty people. And his parents are visiting his aunt or whatever back home in Texas. He didn’t go ‘cuz he wanted to use the opportunity to get shit-faced with his friends. Isn’t that sweet?”

Maya idly stirred her spoon in her half-empty bowl. “Very sweet indeed.” She considered the invite. Zay’s apartment was nice, well-furnished, pretty huge. He threw ‘kickbacks’ semi-regularly with his large circle of friends. It had always been a great place to unwind — getting super drunk, joining whatever stupid game of cards or spin the bottle the large group in his living room would inevitably play, and spending the only time she ever would with her fellow classmates outside of school. It’d be loud, full of drunk teenagers without any of the fighting and usual drama since Zay was cool and just had this way of making the people around him seem cool. There were worse ways to spend a Friday. “Alright, yeah, I’m game.”

“I’m planning on spending the night, so if you wanna spend it too, we wouldn’t have to worry about needing a ride back.”

“Let’s do it. I look forward to getting wasted with you, Friar.” 

Lucas smiled at her, and she smiled back. The next episode of Friends must have started because the theme song kicked in. Lucas hummed the melody as he drank another spoonful of his soup. When he swallowed, he licked his lips. But he missed a drop of liquid on the corner of his mouth.

She forced all her hesitation and doubts down, just _willed_ herself to do it, and leaned forward to kiss the spot off. 

But before their lips could touch, the front door opened.

“Christ, Lucas.” Jo stepped inside and kicked the door shut. Maya and Lucas jerked away from each other so quickly that her soup nearly spilled all over her lap. Maya lowered her plate onto the floor and resisted the urge to bolt to Lucas’ room.

Jo dropped four bags of groceries. They landed on the floor with a thud. She crossed her arms, fixed Lucas with a glare. “ _Where is your shirt?”_

Maya considered pointing to herself and saying, “Right here,” but she had _some_ common sense so she didn’t. Instead, her hand twitched in what some might call a wave and not a tiny spasm of fear. “Hey, Jo.”

“Hi, Maya, lovely to see you,” Jo said with a brief glance at Maya, speaking fast enough that her fading Texas accent bled in. She snapped her head back to Lucas. “Guess what?”

With his knees hugged to his chest to cover his skin, Lucas winced. “What?”

“You skipped class again today!”

“You didn’t let me guess.”

“You told me _yesterday_ that you were going to take school more seriously! You know, after you skipped class? So what do you do the very next day — right, you break your promise and jeopardize your future.”

“Jo,” Lucas gritted out. Any sign of what he actually felt was hidden from his face with the tight smile he forced. “We have company.”

“It’s okay,” Maya insisted. “I should really get out of your hair.”

“What, no.” Lucas frowned as Maya stood and dusted her pants. “Stay. We’ve got ice cream in the fridge and —”

She gripped his shoulder with one hand, cupped his chin with the other. “Thank you for the s — the stuff. And thank you for the soup. I had a good night. Really. I’ll see you tomorrow. And good luck with your impending lecture.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re throwing me to the wolves here.”

She gave his shoulder another squeeze. “Nothing you can’t handle. You’ll be okay.” She pulled her hands back as Lucas stood to walk her out. 

“You’ll text Lucas when you get home right?” Jo asked. 

“I was _just_ going to ask that,” Lucas protested. On one trip, he managed to lift all four bags of groceries and crossed the short distance to the kitchen to set them by the pantries. “But you will, Hart?”

Maya absentmindedly patted her phone tucked into her back pocket. “Course,” she said, her voice cracking with an inexplicable surge of warmth at their bit of concern. “I’ll need to know if you’re alive after Jo demolishes you, right?”

Jo chuckled. Up close, Maya couldn’t help but marvel not for the first time how much Jo resembled Lucas. The same shade of blonde hair, green eyes, and matching dimples. For as much as Jo lectured Lucas about not taking school seriously, she adored her younger brother. Over the years, Lucas had told Maya about how Jo would take him to the movies, forcibly taught him recipes because she didn’t want to be like their parents and let him _not_ know how to cook, made sure they talked about their days at dinner every night they were home together. 

When he would tell her this, passing details in their conversations, he wasn’t even bragging. He was simply recounting his normal, everyday experiences, things he was so used to having that he didn’t even realize he _had_ it.

A jolt of pain ran through her. Harsh and stinging, followed immediately by a pang of resentment she refused to think about. Maya cleared her throat. “I’ll go now. Have a nice night.” To Lucas, she said: “Good luck, Friar.” To Jo, she said: “Have fun yelling at him.”

Jo opened the door for Maya. “Will do.”

Both Friars were already yelling before the door even fully shut. One step into the hallway and Maya caught their opening lines.

“I thought you’d be home later,” Lucas said.

“Which is why you brought your girlfriend over without telling me?”

“You know she’s not my —”

She didn’t hear the rest of Lucas’ sentence. She didn’t have to.

He wasn’t saying anything wrong. It was the truth. He wasn’t her boyfriend and she didn’t want him to be. But it still stung, which didn’t make sense, tangling up in all of her shitty dumb feelings. She was so fucking _sensitive_ this week, her heart open and she needed to lock it because this shit was too —

Her phone vibrated in her back pocket.

Maya pulled her phone out as she stepped inside the elevator. A close-up of her mom from two years ago, fast-asleep and drooling on their living room sofa after a night-shift lit up her screen. She accepted the call as she punched the button going to the ground floor.

“Hey, mom.” Her voice sounded foreign to her own ears, distant like it came from someone else. 

“Hey, baby girl.” Only three words and yet Maya’s shoulders sagged and every one of her muscles loosened. Relief overwhelmed her at the sound of her mother’s syrupy-sweet and gentle voice. She wanted absurdly to cry, just start bawling in the middle of the elevator. No one was around her. Even if she spied any of Lucas’ neighbours when she got off, who cared? All of this sounded rational in her head but as soon as a tear slipped from her eye, she roughly wiped both of her eyes with her knuckles, her breath hitching.

“Maya? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Maya rasped out. “I’m just a little tired. I’ll be home in half an hour for dinner. What’s up?

“Oh, that’s the thing, honey. I’m real sorry but —”

“Another night shift? Really?”

“It’s only half a shift. I’ll be home by one, and I’ll bring you food from the diner, but you better be asleep by then. Don’t wait up for me.”

“So what do I eat for dinner then? Or should I just go to bed starving?” Dimly, she knew she was acting like a brat, but she couldn’t stop. Seventeen, almost an adult, and here she was, acting like a baby.

“The pizzeria in front of our building, Louie’s, buy something from there. There’s a twenty on the kitchen counter if you need it. I’m sorry, okay? But it’s a good idea for me to take whatever extra work I can. It’s not like I work because I want to, I work —”

“To provide for us, I know. Okay. Fine. Whatever. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She hung up before Katy could reply. 

The elevator doors opened. Maya stormed out, dashed out of the complex and onto the sidewalk. She knew where she wanted to go and it wasn’t to Louie’s or back to her apartment.

.

.

.

Topanga’s stayed open until ten pm on weekdays. By the time Maya walked the entire way there, it was only a quarter until nine.

Maya didn’t want a full dinner, anyway. She had enough Ramen at Lucas’ place so that a smoothie and a slice of pumpkin pie from Topanga’s would suffice. Mostly, she needed to be somewhere that wasn’t home but was still familiar and warm and the only other place where she didn’t have to be by herself. Pathetic, sure, but —

No, just pathetic.

But before she even reached the front door, she stopped dead in her tracks. Movement in her peripheral from behind the bakery’s window caught her attention. She peered inside. Her heart clenched at what she found.

At the front counter, Topanga’s owner — Topanga, Maya pieced together, still surprised that Topanga was an actual name of a person and not just the bakery — manned the front counter, standing behind the cash register. Next to her stood who else but Riley. Topanga had one arm around her daughter’s shoulder as she gestured with the other one, explaining something to Riley who continuously nodded, a determined look on her face. If Maya had to guess, Topanga was explaining how to use the cash register. 

And then Matthews himself walked by, stuffing a blueberry muffin into his mouth. He waved at them, smiling as he chewed open-mouth. 

Topanga rolled her eyes, but the way her lips curved suggested she was fighting back a smile. It was a fight she lost. There was something intensely intimate about the way her eyes tracked her husband as he walked behind the counter to join them.

Matthews slid his arm around Riley’s back. It made for a perfect picture, the three Matthews’ together behind the front counter next to the display of pastries. Riley said something and earned laughter from her parents. She beamed in between them, smiling as brightly as the sun.

These kinds of families didn’t exist in real life. They existed on a television screen, created by screenwriters, made on a script. Fictitious in all aspects. But here it was right before her very eyes. A perfect, loving family. It figured that this was where Riley Matthews came from — two parents, still in love, who spent time with her and probably helped her with her homework and gave her _boy_ advice and weekly pep-talks during their regular dinners.

Maya felt sick.

And then a little kid, a boy who couldn’t have been older than twelve, ran towards them. He looked distressed as he held his math textbook up to them. His curly hair was a near copy and past of Matthews’ hair. 

Riley reached across the counter, ruffled his hair. She said something, and then he passed his textbook to her. He probably asked her for homework help all the time, and Riley, the _best_ older sister in the world, always helped.

Maya couldn’t take this. 

Louie’s Pizza would just have to be her dinner then.

Chin up and eyes focussed ahead of her, she walked past the bakery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a short lil filler chapter, but say hello to jo friar! next chapter has More Stuff and more rilaya, i pinky swear. this is a slowburn, but not too slow i hope.
> 
> until then, i have no shame in saying that i live off of validation and comments are always appreciated.
> 
> take care y'all!


	5. Chapter 5

“Maya? Are you _still up?_ ”

“Nope.” Maya shoved another handful of Cheetos into her mouth without tearing her eyes away from her laptop screen. Her eyes hurt from staring at the screen for too long. Would that stop her from looking at the screen anyway? If she was a logical person, maybe. But considering the fact that she spent the past two hours looking up information about colleges and applications, getting crumbs and orange stains on her keyboard while ignoring the pile of homework in her backpack — her and logic clearly weren’t well-acquainted. 

She scrolled through the seventeenth tab opened on her window. A Yahoo question about a senior with awful grades who wanted to know how much ass they needed to haul to be accepted by colleges. It popped up in her recommendations. “I know you’re listening, FBI agent,” she murmured to her laptop.

“What was that?” 

“Nothing.”

“Could you look at me, please?”

Maya looked up from the screen to her mother. Katy stood by the apartment’s front door, her hands on her hips, an eyebrow raised. Her dirty-blonde hair was tied loosely into a bun resembling Maya’s. She held a bag of takeout in one hand, her purse in the other. Drops of dried coffee stained her uniform’s blouse. The perpetual bags of exhaustion underneath her eyes were even more pronounced.

“Okay. I looked.” She tilted her screen back and resumed her reading.

“You should be sleeping right now.”

“So should you.”

“I had work.”

“I’m a senior in high school. Who’s to say I’m not doing homework?’

“Well, are you?”

“That’s not the point.”

“So you aren’t. Great. You know you’ll have to start taking school more —”

“Oh my god,” Maya said. “Are you seriously giving me the ‘school is important’ lecture? Now? A bit too late for that, don’t you think?”

Katy marched in front of her, dropped her bags onto the floor, and shut Maya’s laptop screen. 

Maya’s mouth dropped. “Hey, I was —”

Katy raised a finger. “It is half-past one in the morning. I’ve spent the entire day on my feet, taking orders and serving food and smiling so hard my cheeks are in pain. And I’m sure you’ve had a long and tiring day too. So let’s not do this passive-aggressive teen angst thing. What is it?” 

For a few seconds, all Maya could do was blink up at her mother, confused and annoyed and completely speechless. She removed her laptop from her lap, set it on the coffee table in front of her. Her hands clasped in her lap. “You can’t just expect me to be a straight-A student after years of not caring about my education.”

“Not caring? Since when do I not —”

“I mean, I’ve had Cs and Ds all through high school, and you’ve never bothered to do anything about it, so how do you expect me to become a straight-A —”

“That’s _not_ what I’m expecting —”

“And who’s to say I’m not actually trying to do better and have an actual shot at college —”

“ _Maya._ ”

She opened her laptop screen and rapidly flicked through each of her seventeen tabs. “I’ve been looking up information colleges and applications and how to prepare during your senior year. That’s what I’m doing right now. Have been for the past few hours, thanks. And — and I’m transferring into the last-period art class, which you need to sign the form, and I left it in your room so _don’t forget,_ and — I’m getting help from my history teacher, okay, so I’m really going to try this time, but you acting like I need to be _told_ to as if I don’t care doesn’t help!”

Katy touched Maya’s shoulder, a flicker of hurt in her eyes. “I didn’t know any of that, sweetheart.”

Maya jerked back. She knocked Katy’s hand off of her shoulder. “Of course not! Why would you?” She rose to her feet, stood eye-to-eye in front of Katy. She must’ve looked like a disaster. Greasy hair up into a bun, face bare and dry, eyes red, her lower lip trembling. But she didn’t look away.

Katy’s mouth set into a hard line. Her expression closed up, no indication of any emotion on her face. “You are my daughter. Of course, I care.” 

“Then _act_ like it!” Maya couldn’t fathom how calm Katy could be in the face of her daughter yelling in her face. Every part of her burned and ached and _hurt_ while Katy was just blank. She wanted to push, scream, cry. But she had nothing left in her. She was done. She just wanted to move on, step out of the fucking puddle of feelings she’d been drowning in this week.

“You’re right,” Maya said, rubbing her eyes. “I should go to sleep.”

“No, we should talk —”

“It’s almost two am. I have school in the morning. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Katy sighed, but Maya didn’t spare her another glance as she stepped past her and made her way towards her bedroom. 

“Don’t forget to sign my transfer form for my art class,” she said before she slammed her door shut.

Sleep came easy, none of it peaceful.

.

.

.

For the first time in Katy Hart’s life, she remembered to sign a form without having to be reminded about it only a thousand times.

Maya woke the next morning to Katy’s snores from the room next door. Knowing her mother, she wouldn’t wake until at least after ten. After Maya brushed her teeth and got dressed, she found her transfer form into the last-period art class on the kitchen counter, Katy’s messy scrawl at the bottom. 

She got the art teacher, Miss Middleton’s, approval into the class and had her calculus teacher sign it yesterday. She was set for last-period Visual Arts. Her first day in the class was today. 

As she microwaved part of the takeout Katy brought home last night — fries for breakfast, with the burger, packed away for her lunch — she couldn’t stop pacing around her kitchen. Visual Arts couldn’t be tough. But it was her first time taking any art course. The standards could’ve been much higher than she could fathom. People already looked down at her for her attitude, shitty grades, her regularly skipping class, and, most stupidly and uncalled for, her hanging out with Lucas. It didn’t matter to her, but the idea of being looked down upon for her art, if it wasn’t good enough, if _she_ wasn’t good enough —

The microwave beeped.

Her nutritious breakfast was ready.

Perched up on the kitchen counter, she wolfed down her fries while scrolling through Twitter on her phone. A quarter to eight and her phone buzzed.

[Fuckboy Friar]: Be there in 5

[Maya Hart]: wtf are u texting and driving  
[Maya Hart]: what would sheriff woody say

[Fuckboy Friar]: Hart, this is Zay texting  
[Fuckboy Friar]: I’ve got shotgun so you have 4 and a half minutes 2 process this  
[Fuckboy Friar]: And I read ur text to Luke who says he resents the Sheriff Woody comment

[Maya Hart]: tell him sheriff woody resents HIS comment </3  
[Maya Hart]: oh and zay u must be aware that i WILL bug u from the backseat

[Fuckboy Friar]: Aware and ready for it babe

True to their word, at the exact moment Maya stepped out of her apartment building five minutes later, Lucas’ Jeep drove in.

An old J-Cole song blared from the speakers. All the windows were rolled down. Lucas stretched his arm out of his window, yawning. His hand tapped against the top of the car to the beat of the song. Meanwhile, Zay stuck his head out of his window to grin lopsidedly at Maya. 

With the sunlight everywhere, warm against her face and her legs from underneath her shorts, her transfer form to Visual Arts folded into squares and tucked in her backpack, and the sight of the only tolerable boys at Abigail Adams High, she felt … good. Really good. She couldn’t stop smiling.

“You’re coming tonight, right?” Zay asked as Maya climbed in.

She shut the car door. “To the party that you refuse to call a party?”

“It’s a _kickback_ ,” Lucas and Zay said, both sounding pained. 

Maya took her backpack off, set it next to her. She sat on the edge of her seat so she could lightly elbow them both. “Do I even want to ask what the difference is?”

“Kickbacks are lowkey,” Zay started. Oh. He was dead-serious. “They’re chill, exclusive, with better music, food, company.”

“And better beer,” Lucas chimed in. He put the car in park, lowered the music’s volume.

Zay nodded. “That too! Parties are chaotic. Too many people. God awful music. You remember Gardener’s party back in April? They played that fucking clown, Tekashi.”

“Okay, but that’s just Gardener’s terrible taste in people and music,” Maya argued. “If you held a party, that wouldn’t be played.”

“Even if it was me, everyone would be making requests. I’d lose out to everyone wanting garbage played.”

Lucas scratched the back of his head. “Doesn’t that say more about the people you invited than the fact that it’s a party?” 

Zay gaped at Lucas. “Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?”

“I am! But Hart has a point.”

Maya smiled smugly.

“Oh my god, you’re both the worst,” Zay said. “The _point_ is that kickbacks have less people, so it won’t end in chaos, my place won’t be trashed, my folks are less likely to know about it, and it’ll be calm and peaceful.”

“Calm and peaceful? While everyone gets drunk?” Maya asked.

“You know, all I asked was if you were —” For emphasis, Zay repeatedly reclined his chair up and down after each word, “ _coming_ — _or — not._ ”

Maya shrieked out a laugh. She hugged her legs to her chest to avoid being crushed by the back of Zay’s seat. “I’ll be there! I will!”

“Call it a kickback,” Lucas said.

“Over my dead body.” 

“Call it a kickback or I’ll play Tekashi right now,” Zay threatened.

“You hate him too.”

“Everyone does,” Lucas said, pointedly unlocking his phone. “But it’s a price we’re willing to pay.” He turned his phone on vibrate so each letter he typed into the Spotify search bar could be heard through the speaker. “SIX-I-X —”

“You monsters.” Maya shook her head, heaving a sigh. “Fine. _Fine._ Isaiah Babineaux, I look forward to attending your kickback tonight. Please note that I’m never using that word again.”

Lucas glanced over his shoulder at Maya. “What word?” 

“I will _kick_ your _back._ ”

“That counts as her saying it! I’m counting that!” Lucas declared. He turned to Zay and they bumped fists, both resembling golden retrievers with their matching grins.

Maya rolled her eyes. She absolutely did not smile. 

She checked the time on her phone. “Do any of you care about getting to class on time?” 

Lucas snorted. “No. And neither do you.”

“Well, maybe I don’t want to get chewed out by Matthews for being late _three_ times in one week. And Zay, don’t you want to make a good impression?”

“He’ll love me, I’m Zay.” Zay wasn’t even being cocky, but honest. Anyone with a heart loved Zay. It was impossible not to. “But you’re right. We’re not freshmen anymore. It’s senior year. Time to get our shit together.”

“Yay,” Lucas said flatly. He raised the music’s volume back up. In a true testament to the duality of Lucas Friar and his music taste, the chorus of Taylor Swift’s _Love Story_ kicked in. As he put the car back in drive and drove out of the front of Maya’s apartment building, Zay cheered and sang along.

“Romeo, take me somewhere — why are both of you acting like you don’t know the words to this song? Luke, this is in your library for a _reason._ ” 

Maya caught Lucas’ gaze in the front mirror. She couldn’t see his mouth, but from the glint in his eyes, she could tell he was fighting a smile. She nodded. 

Zay started singing again. “It’s a _love story_ —”

Maya and Lucas joined him, the former attentively watching Zay’s face as the pair sang, “BABY JUST SAY YES!”

Zay’s whole face lit up like a Christmas tree.

.

.

.

“— And these are where the paper towels are kept,” Mrs. Middleton said, concluding Maya’s tour of the art classroom. “It’ll take some time to know where everything is and get comfortable in this space, but it won’t be long until that happens. If you have any questions about where the materials are, you can always ask me or your classmates.”

Maya managed a nod. She glanced over the classroom, taking it all in. It wasn’t the first time she stepped foot in here. After all, she came yesterday during lunch to speak with Middleton. But with the rest of the class in and away to work, it felt like brand new territory. 

Rows of long desks surrounded the classroom, one long rectangle of them with two smaller rows inside. Stools replaced the usual chairs from the other classrooms. The front wall had a large whiteboard with various doodles in different colours covering it. Behind the desks were a million cabinets with more pieces of artwork hung up than Maya had enough time to appreciate. She only caught a quick glance at them, but they were even more bold, expressive, and vibrant than the artworks hung out in the hallway. Next to the front door was the single sink, a tall stack of paper towels, and Middleton and Maya.

Middleton gave Maya a gentle smile. “It’s a bit overwhelming, isn’t it?”

As Maya looked over the rest of her classmates who filled in the seats and already started their work without being told to, overwhelming felt like an understatement. She couldn’t do this. She was a fraud. Matthews got it wrong with her. She only doodled, she wasn’t a professional like everyone else, and —

“You’ll be fine,” Middleton said. “All you need for this class is passion and a willingness to put in the effort.”

“What if someone had a willingness, but didn’t know how to actually make an effort?”

Middleton’s grey eyes were both chilling and comforting. “If you’re willing, then you’ll do it. That’s all there is. No secret code exists. We’re not asking for the best here. Just _your_ best. You’re in this class because you want to be, right?”

It was the only thing Maya was certain of. “Yes, of course.”

“Then I don’t see much of a problem here.” Middleton smiled kindly. “There’s an empty seat in the corner. I left the current assignment sheet there. Take a look at it, let me know if you have any questions. Due dates are on the sheet but don’t worry if you need extra time. Just talk to me about it. Today, we’re starting our rough drafts.”

She fidgeted with her denim shorts, repeatedly smoothing it over as she nodded. “Okay. Sounds good.” She turned around, took one step forward before she stopped. “Uh, thanks, Mrs. Middleton. I’m glad I’m here.”

Middleton didn’t hesitate to respond. “I’m glad you’re here too.”

Something shifted in Maya’s chest, slotting into place. She fought a smile as she dragged one foot in front of the other towards the sole remaining seat in the far-left corner.

Since it was a corner seat, the only person close enough for her to talk to was the girl to her right. Maya vaguely recognized her. The girl had long hair, the same shade of brown as her eyes. Thick eyebrows, thick glasses. Unlike the rest of the class, she wasn’t talking to anyone around her or listened to music while she worked. She focussed solely on the art, drawing the slope of a chin with care and precision, her eyes intently focussed on the page. Maya just _knew_ this girl was a member of the science club.

Maya pulled out a pencil from her backpack. Set it on the desk. Tucked her backpack underneath her stool. Plopped onto the stool. Skimmed the assignment sheet laid out in front of her.

“So are we pretty much just drawing someone we know for the assignment?” Maya regretted it as soon as she blurted it out, but she couldn’t just _shove_ the words back in.

“Drawing someone we know well with an emotion or quality we associate with them.” The girl sounded dazed. Her eyes never left her page. “Mrs. Middleton gave an example of one of the many dramatic drama students or an eager cheerleader.”

Maya snorted. She could think of one eager cheerleader in particular. “Okay. That helps. Thanks. I’m, uh, Maya. I transferred into this class today.”

“Nice to meet you uh Maya,” she said so tonelessly that Maya couldn’t tell if it was a joke or not.

“It’s — it’s _Maya.”_

“That was a joke. I know your name, Maya Hart.”

Maya laughed, be-fucking-wildered. “So what’s yours?”

“Isadora Smackle.”

“And now I know your name, Isadora Smackle. And it’s a helluva one you’ve got there too.”

“Thank you, but I can’t take any of the credit. My parents gave it to me.”

Maya couldn’t tell if Isadora was still joking, but she chuckled anyway. “Hey, where’s the paper in the class? For the rough drafts?”

“No paper yet. Since it’s the beginning of the school year and the public education system has to pretend they care about the arts, we have to wait a bit, maybe until the end of the month, to get paper and some of the rest of our supplies.” Isadora wrinkled her nose at the chin she’d drawn so she erased it carefully with slow and hard strokes. “For now, we’ve gotta bring our sketchbooks every day.”

“Oh. Okay. Hey, can I borrow some paper from your sketchbook?”

.

.

.

Maya stood by the history classroom’s closed door, bouncing back and forth on the balls of her feet, her notebook for the class clutched in her hands. She’d been there for five minutes and had yet to find the ability to just. Step inside.

Yesterday, Matthews had told her that he stayed after school every Tuesday and Friday to answer questions, work with students, provide them with a quiet place to work. She wanted to take him up on his offer. Not that she had a question or anything, but it seemed like something good students did. Hang around after class, get some work done, all on a Friday afternoon. It certainly wasn’t something she’d ever done before so it sounded like a good call.

Or it would be if she could just _go inside._

Her feet remained planted on the floor. The school day ended twenty-five minutes ago, so the hallways were mostly empty. No one saw her hyping herself up to go to after school tutoring. 

God, who the fuck was she? Too afraid to step into a _classroom._ No. This wasn’t her. She truly wanted this, just to see what it was like. Even five minutes inside, if only to see what it was like, was a step in the right direction, a step she wanted to take.

A step she was _going_ to take.

Maya lifted her chin, looked straight ahead, took a deep breath in, and opened the door.

It was all very anticlimactic. Five minutes of hyperventilating and mild panicking and preparing herself all for this — two freshmen animatedly discussing a group project in the middle row, Charlie Gardener with his AirPods in, doing calculus homework in the left corner of the room, and a redheaded sophomore at Matthews’ desk, nodding along to Matthews explaining something about the economy that Maya immediately tuned out.

Oh. This was it. The mundanity of it eased her nerves as she stepped inside the classroom.

At the sound of her closing the door, Matthews’ eyes darted to hers. He didn’t stop his explanation to the sophomore. But he smiled, gave her a small wave that she tentatively returned, and looked back at his student.

She took the seat in the right corner of the classroom. Now that she was here, she didn’t know what to do. She had no English homework. Definitely nothing from Phys-Ed. She had to play a little catch-up with art, finish a quick draft, but she’d rather do that on the floor of her bedroom or at a window-seat in Topanga’s. The only assignment in history was the group project with Riley. 

This morning, at the very beginning of class, they chose their topics. By some miracle, namely Lucas’ disinterest in following the speed limit, Maya and Zay made it to class a minute before the last bell went off. As soon as they walked into class, slightly out of breath, she was pleasantly greeted with:

“DO YOU WANT TO DO ROE V. WADE? SAY THAT YOU DO!”

Having Riley Matthews _scream_ this at her at eight in the morning was better than any kind of coffee. Maya was officially awake. 

She jumped back and bumped into Zay’s shoulder. The only reason she didn’t fall face-back onto the floor was thanks to Zay who steadied her with a hand on her elbow.

“I want you to stop shouting,” Maya said, seconds away from seething. “Ask me quieter.”

“I wasn’t _shouting,”_ Riley insisted. “That was my excited voice.”

“Then ask me in your unexcited, completely disinterested, quiet and calm voice.”

“Hart,” Zay said, a note of warning in his voice, but Maya raised a finger.

“Quiet and calm, Matthews. Can you do it?”

Riley pressed her mouth into a hard line. A muscle in her jaw twitched. “Would you,” she started, her voice flat with effort, “like to do Roe v. Wade for our assignment?”

“No please?”

Riley smiled dryly. “Please stop me from rethinking my stance for non-violence. Sign-up sheet’s at the front, just add your signature.”

Maya walked towards Matthews’ desk. She lifted the pen from the sign-up sheet and bent to sign it. “Ah, I get it. Minkus likes being bossed around.”

“Oh my god,” Zay said.

“His _name_ is Farkle, and he likes people with basic empathy and emotions and, you know, a heart. Is that why your last name is Hart? To compensate for the one you don’t have?”

Maya had started to swear, but then Matthews walked in. 

Matthews stopped in the doorway, clutching his chest dramatically. “Is that _Maya Hart,_ in my class, on time?” Muffled laughter came from the back of the room. “I never thought I’d see the day, but I’m happy it happened. Keep it up.”

“Don’t get your hopes up.” But the warmth in her chest made her want to do just that — keep it up.

So after this morning’s class, everyone had their topics for their assignments. Matthews told them they’d have a few work-periods next week, so there wasn’t much to do.

But maybe, Maya could get started on some research anyway. It would give her something to do until Lucas picked her up in an hour for Zay’s ‘kick-back’. It would really mean she was turning a new leaf, that she cared about school and would really try now. She didn’t know _how_ to be a student, but this seemed like a good starting point.

And it would definitely shock the hell out of Riley. That alone made it worth it.

So she pulled up her phone, typed up ‘history of roe v. wade’ into Google, and started reading. She didn’t bother with her earbuds. The rustling of pages, of pencils against papers, those freshman girls’ hushed laughter, and Matthews’ gentle voice made for the perfect white noise.

Time passed without her noticing. She just kept reading and taking notes in bullet-points on her notebook. Roe v. Wade wasn’t something she knew nothing about, but it only now occurred to her how _little_ she knew both of the Supreme Court case and the impact it still had today.

Before she knew it, she had two and a half pages of notes and a nearly finished timeline completed. It wasn’t a lot. Most students probably did this every day, for each of their classes, but it was still something. When she flipped through those pages, a sense of pride bubbled inside of her, small but present all the same. 

“Everything going okay?”

Maya startled. In front of her stood Matthews with a kind smile, his hands laced behind his back. 

“I’m just checking in on everyone, making sure we’re all good.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m good,” Maya said. “If you thought me coming to class on time was a miracle, then you’re not going to believe that I’m, gasp, doing _research._ For your class!” She lifted her notebook, spinning it around to show him the pages. “And I didn’t even doodle once!”

“I see a tiny gavel in the corner.”

“That’s different. That’s important for my notes. I’m a visual learner.”

“Oh, same here. All of my notes for staff meetings have little drawings of Principal Helmer pointing his finger everywhere.”

Principal Helmer was notorious for his signature Pointing. He did it for any display of emotion — joy, disappointment, frustration, excitement, etc. Every student impersonation Maya had seen of him, and she’d seen many, included his excessive pointing. She had no idea the teachers were aware of it too.

“And how did last-period art go today?” Matthews asked.

“Good.” She smiled despite herself. “I think … I think it’s a perfect fit for me. And I — I wouldn’t have gotten there if you hadn’t … you know. So thanks, I guess. I mean, no, not _I guess,_ but definitely, uh. Thank you. And I swear I know how to speak, my brain’s just, mush, from a week of classes and it’s Friday and — I’m going to stop talking now.”

He gave her a half-smile. “I appreciate it, but no need to thank me, Maya. I gave you the directions but I’m not the one that had to take that unfamiliar route. You were. So thank yourself too.”

So talking like a character in the last five minutes of _Full House_ ran in the family. Good to know. Honestly, though? Maya found it a little endearing. “Will do,” she managed to say, her cheeks growing hot. “You know, the resemblance between your daughter is kind of uncanny.”

“Does this mean you’re finally warming up to her?”

“Absolutely not. Please don’t give me detention for saying that.”

“Don’t worry. Not liking someone doesn’t warrant detention, even if that someone is my daughter. I won’t get into the middle of this but —”

“You _won’t_? You already have. What do you call assigning us partners for a group project then?”

He scoffed. “Much needed teacher intervention!”

“So, you agree? You intervened? And since to intervene is a synonym with getting in the middle of things, then — alright, you’ve got the picture.”

“I did what I had to as a teacher. You two have got to learn how to work together. I stand by that.”

“Well, even if we can somehow work together, I highly doubt that I’ll ever warm up to her. Tell me, Matthews, do you believe that some people are meant to be?”

Humouring her, he gave a half-shrug. “Sure.”

“Then with that same logic, some people are meant to dislike each other. There’s nothing to do about it.”

“Honestly, I really think you two could be friends. And I’m not just saying that. I mean it.”

“And you know what, it’s okay to be wrong. Happens to the best of us.”

Matthews shook his head, chuckling. “I guess we’ll see. Let me know if you need anything, alright? You’re making great progress here.”

She couldn’t tell if he had referred to the assignment or something else. Either way, she smiled, a small and almost soft thing, and nodded. “Uh, thanks.”

Matthews turned around, making his way towards the two freshmen to check on them. 

Maya went back to work. She completed another page of notes before her phone chimed.

[Fuckboy Friar]: I’ll b at the school in 10  
[Fuckboy Friar]: And no Im not driving and texting  
[Fuckboy Friar]: Costco parking lot w soda and shit 4 the kickback

[Maya Hart]: soda and shit sounds appetizing  
[Maya Hart]: ok thanks see u soon 

She added the cowboy smiley emoji and hit send. Once she put her phone done, she suddenly became aware of how stiff she’d become, sitting in the seat for the past — 

Oh. She’d been in the history classroom, actually doing schoolwork, for a complete hour. It wasn’t a lot. She’d have to do this a million times this year for any of it to amount to something. 

But it was still a small victory. 

After tucking her notebook and pencil into her backpack, she slung it over her back and stood from her chair. She pushed her chair in with her hip and walked towards the door. Before she walked out, she lingered by the doorframe. “Have a nice weekend, Matthews.”

“You too, Maya,” he said from his desk. “See you Monday.”

“See you Monday.” 

.

.

.

Maya waited by the front of the school, perched on the top of the bench with her feet on the seat. No one came in or out through the front doors. She kept her phone tucked in her backpack. Something about the quietness around her, save for the occasional car passing by, grouped with the sight of her school empty for once and the afternoon sunlight on her face was calming. After all of this week’s emotional diarrhea, she could use calming.

It figured that as soon as she appreciated the quiet around her, someone came barging out the front doors.

And it fucking figured that it was the _last_ person she wanted to see.

She saw Riley before Riley saw her. Out of breath, red in the face, and with a glow of sweat. Cheerleading practice, Maya guessed. Wearing her regular clothes, Riley’s uniform was bunched up in her hands, but a red bow remained tied into her ponytail. Maya wouldn’t be surprised if bows weren’t even part of the cheerleading uniform but a regular, everyday part of her outfits. Riley seemed like the type.

Squinting from the sun, Riley scanned the front of the school. After presumably not finding whoever was picking her up, she sighed and turned toward the bench.

And finally noticed Maya.

“Oh.” Riley stopped abruptly in her track. Her shoulders squared, spine shooting up. She held her uniform tighter. “What’re you doing here?”

“It’s almost like I go to school here. Isn’t that crazy? A student _at_ their school?”

“Even crazier when it’s a student who skips class more often than attends _choosing_ to hang around school after it’s done.”

“What can I say?” Maya shrugged. She spread our arms out lazily, partly to stretch and partly to gesture to herself. “I like to surprise.”

Riley opened her mouth then closed it. Maya waited for her snarky comeback, but nothing came. Instead, Riley bit her lip then sat on the other side of the bench, mirroring the way Maya sat — up on the top of the bench, feet propped on the seat. She crossed her legs, angled herself to the left to keep as much distance from Maya as possible. 

An uncomfortable silence crept in between them. Restless, Maya tapped her feet against the bench. She peeked a Riley from the corner of her eye. “So. Cheerleading practice.”

Riley gave her uniform a small shake. “Nothing gets past you, huh?” She didn’t even look at Maya, but instead at her own hands in her lap.

“I’m just trying to make conversation. Your dad —”

“What _about_ my dad?” Riley snapped, the same tone she used with Maya during their fight in history when she defended Matthews from Maya’s remarks. Her head shot up and spun towards Maya. The brown in her eyes hardened, her face cool, impassive, and, mostly, terrifying. “If you insult him, I —”

“Insult him?” Maya repeated in complete disbelief. She laughed a little, hesitant and honestly fearful from the intensity in which Riley stared at her. Never would she have used _threatening_ to describe Riley Matthews, but no other word could describe the quietness of Riley’s anger. “No, I was just — I was going to say he wants us to get along. Fuck, Matthews, I —”

Slowly, the hardness drained from Riley’s face drained, replaced with confusion, surprise, maybe almost understanding. “What?”

It felt embarrassing to be so seen by Riley Matthews as Maya floundered for the right words. She wanted to just take the drawing she started in her art class today out of her backpack, show it to and tell Riley that her dad did this for Maya, that he took Maya’s mess of emotions and helped her make something out of it. She wanted to tell her, _your dad has only taught me for two weeks but I think he’s the best teacher I ever had._

But her throat closed up at the idea. She hadn’t even told Lucas and Zay about her transfer into her art class. No way would she admit all of this to Riley. 

Still, she had to say _something._

“There aren’t a lot of good guys out in the world, let alone good teachers or good dads.” Maya’s voice cracked over the last word. She stared ahead, out to the road, and put all her efforts into keeping her voice as steady as possible. “But he’s all three. You’re lucky.”

After a long pause, Riley said quietly, “I know.”

Maya’s chest tightened. She wrapped her fingers around the bench’s arm and squeezed. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“You can’t even see me looking at you.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t tell that there’s pity all over your face, Matthews.”

“Fine. Look at me then.”

Maya gritted her teeth and forced herself to, for the first and _last_ time, do what Riley asked.

Riley circled her hand around her face. “Do you see pity?”

“I see that you’re trying to make a point that isn’t landing,” Maya said, earning herself an eye-roll. “There we go. I see annoyance. You’re annoyed with me.”

Riley nodded, smiling almost like she was amused. “Yup. You can’t pity someone that’s annoying.”

“Hold on, _I’m_ not annoying. You just get annoyed by me. If anything, _you’re_ —”

“I’m annoying, yes, I know,” Riley interrupted, waving her hand dismissively. “You don’t need to tell me.”

“Aw, but I want to.”

“I cannot believe my dad paired us together. I mean, I can, this is exactly the kind of stunt he’d pull, but you’re just —”

Maya smiled wryly. “Charming? Adorable? Lovable?” She couldn’t contain the laugh that burst out of her from the way Riley’s nose wrinkled, disgusted.

The corner of Riley’s mouth twitched. “I’m glad you have high self-esteem.” 

“Why wouldn’t I?” Maya said, mock-serious.

“I see what you’re trying to do and I refuse to engage.”

“You’ll have to engage at some point. Can’t exactly walk away from me or not respond to me when we start working on this project.”

“It’s only a two-week project. By October, you won’t ever speak to me again.”

“That’s not true. Who else will you ask you to be calm and quiet in class? I need to take one for the team. If that means bugging you the rest of the semester then I’ll make that sacrifice.”

“I’m going to kill my dad,” Riley said. 

“See, this is exactly why I have a duty to keep bothering you. Who else would stop you from killing your dad?”

Riley let out a shocked laugh. She clapped her hand over her mouth.

“Do you think I’m funny, Matthews?” Maya was ridiculously pleased with herself, a smug smile spreading across her mouth.

But before Riley could defend herself, Lucas’ Jeep zoomed into the school’s driveway. He came to a sudden stop by the school’s entrance and honked.

Riley eyed the car. “Is that Lucas?”

As if on cue, Lucas leaned forward from the driver’s seat and poked his head out of the passenger seat window. “Ready to get _shit-faced_?”

“Hell yeah.” Maya jumped off from the bench and started towards Lucas’ car. She could _feel_ Riley’s brown eyes following her, so she stopped. Looked over her shoulder. Raised an eyebrow when she found Riley indeed already looking at her. 

Riley blinked. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t look away. 

“Um. Have a weekend, Matthews.” Maya didn’t wait long enough to gauge Riley’s reaction or for her to even respond. She dashed towards the Jeep, flung the door open, threw herself inside, then shut the door.

Lucas laughed at her. “Did you just tell Riley to have a _weekend_?”

“I did it on purpose!” She insisted, huffing as she snapped her seatbelt in place. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell her to have a howdy dowdy weekend after tipping my cowboy hat at —”

“Your Texas jokes are getting stale. You need new content.”

“And _you_ need to start driving already.” She tossed her backpack into the backseat. It landed with a plop next to several bags of chips, all different flavours of Lays, and two bottles of Coke. 

“You looked like you were having a nice conversation with Riley. Did I interrupt something? Are you two becoming _besties_?” 

“Shut up.” She elbowed him, her eyes flashing as he only laughed harder. “She could _hear_ you!”

He didn’t stop laughing, but he raised his hands obligingly. “Alright, fine, let’s go. Wouldn’t want to embarrass you in front of your future best friend.” 

Maya refused to acknowledge that with anything more than a glare.

As Lucas put the car in drive, Maya raised the volume of Lucas’ playlist until Kehlani blared from the speakers. The easy strum of the guitar calmed Maya. With a content sigh, she leaned back in her seat, slipped her eyes shut. 

Lucas eased out of the school driveway and drove off. “All the pretty girls in the world, but I’m in this space with you,” he hummed along with the song, his voice so soft Maya barely caught it.

“I’m flattered, Friar.”

“Haha,” he said dryly. “You should sing along. Your voice is a fuck of a lot better than mine.”

She opened her eyes just to narrow them at him. “Is that a compliment?”

“Of course! Everyone knows I have a great voice, so for you to be better than me means a lot.”

“Oh, shut up,” she said with a laugh. “Just focus on driving, please. I’d like to make it to Zay’s _kickback_ in one piece.”

“Hey, you called it a kickback!” 

She stifled another laugh. 

As he drove, he audibly tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. His scratchy voice kept singing along the song, continuously cracked, and was unbelievably charming. With the cool air drifting in from the opened windows, her Kind of But Not Really Boyfriend singing along to Kehlani’s _Honey_ with zero shame, and the two on their way to their mutual friend’s ‘kickback’, it was easy for her to fall asleep.

 _Isn’t love all we need?_ Kehlani sang, her warm voice lulling Maya to sleep. _Is it love?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> errr, i really hope no likes 6ix9ine here?
> 
> mother daughter conflict! best bros maya, zay, and lucas! smackle! art class! the world's best history teacher, cory! riley and maya talking and not ripping each other's throat out! lucas singing along to and maya falling asleep to a wlw anthem, honey by kehlani! 
> 
> things are happening! i! am! excited! 
> 
> next chapter is coming soon. hope y'all are doing well - as well as you can be given everything. see you next time! 💜


	6. Chapter 6

The thing about parties — ugh, _kickbacks_ — was when drunk, they were fun. Great music. Pizza and chips never tasted better. Every homemade alcohol concoction was divine, every joke funny, everyone around her a best friend. There was no better place on earth than here, with a bunch of random classmates she never spoke to otherwise, drunk off her ass and getting all of the words wrong during group-karaoke of Wiz Khalifa’s _Black and Yellow_. 

But sober? 

Holy shit. 

Hell wasn’t just other people. It was being the only one sober in a group of drunk teens.

It was only half-past nine, the hazy glow of sunset still brightening the sky from outside. Three of the seven chips bags and one large bottle of Coke had finished. In the kitchen, the garbage bag hooked on the doorknob, meant solely for empty cans of beer, was nearly full. All twenty-something of the Abigail High students, Maya included, crowded around in Zay’s gigantic living room. All the furniture had been pushed to the walls. Multi-coloured bean-bag chairs were haphazardly placed around the room. Two tables had been lifted into the centre of the room and lined with bowls of junk food and brimming red plastic cups.

Everyone had their eyes glued to the front of the room as Yogi took his turn for karaoke. He was halfway through _I Wanna Dance With Somebody,_ jumping up and down next to Zay’s television screen as it displayed the lyrics. To his left, Zay laughed, cheering him on as he recorded the entire performance on his phone. 

Maya watched all this from the far-back wall of the room. She stood next to the kitchen’s doorway with Lucas by her side. It was the perfect spot. Close enough that they were still part of the group but far enough that they were still in their little bubble, able to hear each other clearly and not strain their eyes from the flashing lights and flashlight from everyone’s phones. 

Lucas bopped his head along to the song. He held a half-filled cup in one hand, the other resting on Maya’s waist. Drunk Lucas was just Lucas, still extremely functional, but hyper, louder, more affectionate. He had kissed Maya’s forehead three times since Yogi started singing.

And as Yogi pointed to the crowd and scream-sang, “Don’t you wanna dance?”, Lucas whooped, spun around loosely, and then dove in to give Maya her fourth forehead kiss. His lips were chapped but warm so she didn’t pull away.

“Are you sure you can’t have just one small drink?” He pouted and pointedly shook his cup. A few drops spilled out onto his shirt, a standard black cotton, and he gasped at the barely visible stains it left. “My shirt!”

Maya couldn’t stifle a laugh at the hurt look on his face. “I’ve got it.” She hadn’t been to Zay’s apartment too often but from the handful of parties he’d held and the few times she, Zay, and Lucas all hung out here, she’d come to know it like the back of her hand. She knew where everything was. In seconds, she ducked into the empty kitchen, grabbed the first napkin from the large pile on the counter, and took the two steps to return to Lucas’ side. “Here.”

He accepted the napkin and dabbed harshly at the drying stain. “I _like_ this shirt.”

She refrained from telling him that he had a dozen just like it and nodded instead. “I know. But it’ll come out.” 

“Thank God. That would’ve really —” His eyebrows shot up into his hairline. He pointed at her with his crumpled napkin. “Hey! You didn’t answer my question. Are you sure you can’t have even a _little bit_ of beer? Half a cup. One-third of a cup. One-quarter.”

“I’m sure. Gotta pick my mom up from the diner at nine am, remember?” 

“That means you’ll, what, have to be asleep by one, one-thirty? How you gonna fall asleep to the sounds of this?” He gestured to everyone screaming with Yogi about how much they wanna dance with somebody. Nearly everyone’s phones were raised, recording with the flash on. The room was a deafening mix of flashes and off-key singing and loud laughter. 

“You’re not a light sleeper,” he added.

“Quit trying to peer pressure me like this is some bad after-school special,” she said, a mock reprimand, and laughed when he did. “Zay promised he’d get the noise to die down by one. That’s as late as he can get without his neighbours complaining and he said the crowd will tire themselves out anyway.”

“Ah, okay.” He smiled dopily and slung his arm around her neck. It hung heavily over her but she liked the weight of it, and as she yanked on his hand, he pulled her closer. “We can spoon on Zay’s bed.” 

“You can spoon with Zay instead. I’ll happily take the couch.”

“Speaking of.” Lucas leaned in close, his breath hot on her cheek. “I’m not, like, completely shit-faced yet.”

“Is this you asking me to fool around in our mutual friend’s place with two dozen people from our _school_ in the other room?”

“ … No?”

“Drink some water, chew a piece of gum, and we’ll talk.”

“Tight. I’ll be back.” He downed the rest of his beer, crushed his Solo Cup with his hands, and burped all in one go. Maya couldn’t believe sometimes that she was attracted to him.

“Luke!” Zay called from across the room, still by his television screen. Yogi, out of breath and drenched through his shirt, passed him the karaoke microphone. “Do a song with me!” 

Lucas’ face split into a grin. “Hart, can we make out in five min —”

“Go. Do your thing.” She nudged him forward with her shoulder. “I’ll be here. Recording the entire thing.”

“Thank you, babe!”

Lucas bolted across the room, side-stepping between the classmates he passed, and stopped in front of Zay. He bent so Zay could whisper in his ear. Once Zay finished, Lucas returned to full height and nodded eagerly.

Zay tapped the microphone. “Gardener, for our next song, please play, drumroll, please.”

Several classmates drummed against their thighs, the floor beneath them, or repeatedly hit two cans of beer together. Maya clapped her hand against the wall.

“Old Town Road!” Everyone erupted into cheers. Even with the lights focussed at the front and no one’s eyes on her, Maya still covered her mouth with her hand to hide her laugh.

It took a minute for Charlie to load up the song and for a second microphone for Lucas to be retrieved. Once the music started, Lucas taking the first verse with an exaggerated version of his Texas version, Maya felt her limbs loosen. She couldn’t stop laughing with a giddiness that she’d forgotten she was capable of.

So maybe being the only sober person in the room wasn’t too terrible. Drunk Maya wouldn’t have fully appreciated this. She wouldn’t remember it in the morning. She definitely wouldn’t have been able to record it properly.

The next three minutes flew by. Once the song ended, everyone broke into cheers and applause. Zay and Lucas bowed. Maya's cheeks were sore from laughter as she ended the video she’d been recording.

Zay spoke into the mic, but his voice wavered, movement from elsewhere distracting him. His eyes strayed to the front door. “Oh shit! Hey, look who’s here everybody! Y’all made it!”

Maya tucked her phone in her back pocket before she checked the front door. But honestly, there wasn’t a point. She should’ve seen this coming.

Farkle Minkus closed the front door behind him. He ducked his head with a small and sheepish smile. His white shirt, dark jeans, and black windbreaker matched half the boys here. 

To his right and hand-in-hand with him stood Riley. Her long brown hair fell down her back, pushed away from her face. She wore an orange blouse, the transparent sleeves hanging loosely at her wrists, and cuffed blue jeans. She swung her and Farkle’s joined hands in a wave.

Maya shouldn’t have been surprised. Zay was friendly with half the school. Judging from the way Zay passed his mic to Lucas to shimmied past their classmates and greet Farkle, he was more than friendly with Farkle. Maya remembered Farkle talking amicably with Zay earlier this week at Topanga’s, while Maya was in line not picking a fight but also kind of picking a fight with Riley. But that was a casual conversation between classmates. Wasn’t it Maybe they weren’t only classmates suffering in the same AP Chemistry but real, actual friends. When did that happen? 

And how did Matthews let Riley go this out late on a Friday night, no supervision, alcohol a guarantee? 

Maya watched Lucas pass both microphones to the next singers for karaoke. Two girls Maya kind of recognized, brunettes on the cheerleading team. One even called out Riley’s name.

Lucas caught up to Zay. Maya could only see his back but it looked like he was saying greeting Farkle too, which. What.

The only two people she got along with ushered Riley and Farkle further into the apartment, leaving Maya with one option: hide in the kitchen.

Listen. This wasn’t running away. This was _logical._ Sure, she’d gone to school with everyone here for three years but two things were true. One, she knew the names of maybe half of the thirty-something students here. That included Zay, Lucas, Riley, Farkle, and herself. Two, none of said students interacted with her outside the ephemeral bliss of alcohol paired with weekend nights. She was only here because she knew Zay. She only knew Zay because she knew Lucas. And painfully sober, she was reminded of all of this.

Maya tortured herself with a week of overthinking about her useless father, useless grades, useless emotions. She refused to add to that list now. Not in the middle of Zay’s kitchen, more than two dozen of her classmates only a few feet away from her. If she actually cried now, that would be pathetic. Maybe not more pathetic than her breaking down in front of Matthews earlier this week, but —

Yeah, she wasn’t going there either. 

Maya flung the fridge door open. It took every one of the two, maybe three ounces of restraint she had not to grab one of the many cans of beer lined on the top row. One drink would lead to another and another. She would be shit-faced by midnight. Katy would be even more upset with her then for not picking her up tomorrow morning.

Even thinking about her mother transported her back to last night and their dumb argument. In hindsight, Maya probably shouldn’t have bolted to her room and slammed her door shut instead of talking to Katy. 

But Katy shouldn’t have acted like Maya was an awful student who didn’t care about school. Was that true? Obviously. Katy wasn’t supposed to genuinely _believe_ that, though. She was supposed to believe in her instead. Be involved. Go to parent-teacher meetings. Help her check the grammar in her essays and figure out complicated math formulas after school. Have conversations about the importance of education before Maya landed in her final year of hers.

If she was going down that road, though, she had to acknowledge this: at least Katy stayed. 

With a relenting sigh, she grabbed a cold water bottle instead and chugged half of it in one go. She probably would’ve downed the rest had Zay not walked into the kitchen then, a red Solo cup in hand.

“Hart!” 

Maya startled. Her grip on the bottle slipped and some of the ice-cold water spilled down her chin, her shirt. That didn’t alarm her as much as Zay’s presence, because if he was here, that meant — “Please tell me you’re alone. No one’s coming behind you, right?”

Zay looked behind his shoulder. “Nope. Who’re you hiding from?”

Maya forced a scoff. She wiped her chin and didn’t bother with her shirt. “I’m not hiding. I’m drinking water. Don’t you want me to be hydrated?” 

Zay ignored everything she said and repeated, “Who’re you hiding from?”

“My demons.”

“You’ve called me and Luke demons before, so does that mean us, or is this more of a metaphor?” 

“I would never hide from you and Friar.”

Zay’s eyes crinkled with a smile. He crossed the space between them and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. From this close, his breath smelled like all the beer he’d had tonight. His bare arm was damp with sweat. His chin rested on top of her head. Zay was never like this, drunk or sober. 

For a split-second, she froze, her breath caught in her throat. The familiar scent of his usual citrus cologne still lingered by his neck. Absurdly, she realized this was the closest they’d ever had to a hug but she didn’t mind any of it. It was just Zay. 

She gently walked them both until they were leaning next to Zay’s fridge. Her arm slotted around his back, her head fitting into the space between his shoulder and neck. “What’re the chances you’ll remember this tomorrow morning?”

“Like. Less than two.”

“I’m going to take that as you’ll probably forget all of this, so I’ll just. Say that I wasn’t expecting you to invite Minkus and Matthews.”

“Those are your demons?”

“They are not _my_ demons. By the looks of it, they’re yours.” She cleared her throat. “It’s not a big thing. Just wondering when you and Minkus became friends. Since this is an exclusive kickback and all.”

“Honestly I don’t even know. He’s always been cool, and we’ve always been, like, friendly. I kinda figured he was just this straight-laced genius who really only cared about school. Nice and smart, yeah, but not much else there, you know? And then after we were paired up as lab partners in Chem this semester, it’s like, wow. I was so wrong. He has a personality and everything. We’re, like, actual buddies now. Give it another two weeks and we’re gonna have matching friendship bracelets.” He paused, pulled back to frown at her. “How come? You don’t like him?”

“No, it’s not that. I don’t even know the guy.” There was no way to explain her hiding from Riley without Maya coming off as obsessive and weird. Riley probably hadn’t even noticed Maya here. If she did, it wouldn’t bother her this much. She probably wouldn’t care, and it was ridiculous that Maya did. “I was just curious. Glad you have a new friend, though. But make sure Friar isn’t jealous.”

“Luke knows he’s my favourite. Are _you_ jealous?”

“Am I jealous of someone named Farkle Minkus? Do you even hear yourself?”

“Ugh, barely. I have no fucking idea who’s controlling the speaker but I’m disgusted by the fact that they’re playing The Chainsmokers at _this_ volume.”

“It’s your kickback. Take control.” 

“Control is an illusion.” Zay snorted, the sound bitter. He swirled his cup and watched the remaining beer slosh. “You think you have all this power over yourself and your life, but the truth is, you don’t. You really don’t.” 

She waited for a punchline to follow, for him to laugh, for something other than the vacant look in his eyes. But he continued to stare lifelessly at the bottom of his cup. She swallowed past the lump in her throat and moved to stand right in front of him. Both of her hands gripped his shoulder. “What the hell does that mean?”

“What does what mean?”

“What you just said.”

“I meant … what I said. Why do you look upset?”

“Why did you say all of that?” Maya pressed, squeezing his shoulders again. “What’s wrong?” 

“Everything. Nothing. It doesn’t matter.” He used his free hand to gently pry hers off of his shoulders. His smile reached his eyes, and she couldn’t decide if it alarmed or relieved her. With his cup, he gestured to all the flashing lights and group-singing and off-beat dancing from beyond the kitchen’s entryway. “It’s a kickback. Let loose. We all have our shit and I’m not unique for mine. Don’t be sad. I’m not sad!”

She carefully inspected him. His eyes were dry, smile bright, not a single crack in his composure. 

“Yeah, okay. Good,” Maya said finally. She smoothed her palms over her shorts, letting out a shaky laugh. “Scared me for a second.”

Zay bumped her shoulder with his. “You? Scared? I don’t buy that.”

“Even the most perfect people have weaknesses.”

“What’s mine then?”

She stroked her chin, pretending to think hard about it as she looked him over. “Oh, easy. You’re from Texas.” 

He nodded sagely. “Agreed. But it was a necessary evil. God had to knock me down a peg, you know, or no one else would have a chance.”

“Oh, yeah. AP nerd, star football player, devastatingly handsome, extremely modest,” she deadpanned. “You’d be too perfect otherwise.”

“Aw, Hart.” He mimed the action of tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “I’m blushing.”

She lifted herself up on her tiptoes to poke his cheeks. “You’re sweating, actually. Your face is very moist.”

“Thank you.” He glanced behind her, peering out of the kitchen. “Karaoke should be ending soon. We’re doing Never Have I Ever after. Don’t worry, you can just drink apple juice.”

Sitting in a circle with the rest of her drunk classmates as they got even drunker, having to answer invasive prompts about her life, and being seen by Riley — she couldn’t handle any of this sober. “You know, the heat and noise are actually kind of getting to me. Can I chill out in your room for a bit?”

“Yeah, man, that’s fine. Remember, the room’s only open to —”

“Me and Friar. I know.” She flashed him a smile and walked past him. But before she took the last step out of the kitchen, she stopped. Her voice cracked, but she said it anyway, quickly forcing the words out before she talked herself out of it. “You can talk to me, you know.”

“I know,” he said slowly. She was thankful that her back faced him, that the painfully open look on her face went unseen.

“I know you know, but I want you to know that I know that — okay, this is stupid.” She looked back at Zay over her shoulder. “You’re right. We all have our own shit but that doesn’t mean we have to deal with it on our own.”

“You take your own advice?” 

She didn’t know how to answer that. There wasn’t any point in lying; he wouldn’t have asked if the answer was yes. She wanted to bristle, snap, defend herself but there wasn’t anything to defend herself from.

He softened. “It goes both ways, okay?” 

“Oh. Okay.” She drew in a breath. Ignored the anxiety coiling around her ribcage. Returned the small and private smile Zay sent her. And repeated, more decisively, warmth in her voice, “Okay.” 

.

.

.

Zay’s bedroom made Maya’s look like an overstuffed cupboard. 

His room had to be at least the same size as her living room and kitchen area combined. In one corner was his dresser, in another, his shelf full of neatly-lined up books and shoes. The window next to the shelf was half-opened, moonlight spilling into the room. Nearly every inch of his walls was covered in taped-up posters. Movies, musical artists, a few anime shows Maya didn’t recognize. Her favourite was the bright green Brockhampton poster on the room door.

As she sat in front of Zay’s bed, her eyes followed the star-shaped stickers up on the ceiling. The edges were peeling off, but they still glowed in the dark. Zay told her once that when his family first moved in, this was the very first thing he’d done for his bedroom. Since he’d told her that, whenever she was in his room, the stars were always the first thing she noticed.

She would just be here for five minutes. Five minutes and then she would drag herself back out. But as she pulled her phone out, she knew that wasn’t happening. She couldn’t take any of this sober. And sitting here with the company of her phone beat whatever drunk mess was happening across the hall.

.

.

.

Maya was in the middle of a Twitter thread detailing an iCarly conspiracy theory that she still couldn’t tell was serious or not when a knock sounded on the other side of the door.

“Occupied,” she called out.

The knocking persisted. After a few huffs, the doorknob twisted and the door was kicked open.

Maya looked up from her phone, resisting the urge to fling it at the door. “I said the room is —” 

She wasn’t surprised. This week’s running pattern had been bumping into Riley Matthews at every given opportunity. Of course Riley entered Zay’s room at the exact time Maya was here by herself. Even less shocking that she did so after being explicitly told not to come in. In the last three years of high school, they’d never had a conversation together but suddenly Maya couldn’t go anywhere without bumping into her. Just her luck.

“You have to be doing this on purpose, Matthews,” Maya said.

“This isn’t about you.” Riley couldn’t find a solid grip on the doorknob, so she closed the door with her hip. She spun around to face Maya, an intense and frantic look in her eyes. Her hair was messy, lipgloss smudged, face flushed red. A fresh beer stain soaked the shoulder of her top. She kept fidgeting, bouncing back and forth on her feet. “This is about my very small bladder. I need to pee.”

Maya tilted her chin up. “And what do you want me to do about that?”

“The other bathroom has a line. Five people! I can’t wait that long. There’s a washroom here, right?” 

“Yup. But you can’t use it. Zay’s room is off-limits.” 

“I know that. I got Zay’s permission.”

Maya hesitated. “I don’t believe you.”

“Why would I lie? I get guilty about going a single mile over the speed limit and not using the turn signals. Which makes it even more ridiculous that I keep failing my driving test. I keep trying, but —”

“Jesus, okay, you’re a bad driver. I get it.” Maya tapped her screen back to life, flicking her hand toward the washroom. “You’re free to piss.”

“I will piss. Thank you!” Maya couldn’t tell if Riley was being sarcastic or if she was that peppy. She honestly hoped it was the former. 

Riley skipped her way into the bathroom and slammed the door shut. Maya winced at the sound, glaring at the closed bathroom door. Everything about Riley was so loud. It was a miracle Matthews hadn’t already lost hearing from raising his daughter.

Shortly after, the toilet flushed. Maya tried to focus on her phone, picking back up where she left off on the iCarly conspiracy theory. She read the words and processed exactly none of it, too tuned in to the start and stop of the stream of water from the washroom’s sink. The door opened. Maya had to remind herself not to look up. She straightened her spine, stared intently at her phone, waited for Riley to leave.

Instead, Riley sat across from Maya, her back to Zay’s dresser. She hugged her legs to her chest, chin over her knees, fingers toying with the ends of her sleeves. “Why are you here by yourself?” 

Maya waited for a dry smile and a scathing comment to follow but all she got was a slight frown from Riley. “Why are you?” Maya countered.

“You’re supposed to use the bathroom by yourself.” 

“Not if you’re a baby.” 

“Do I look like a baby?”

“I don’t think you want me to answer that honestly.”

Riley scoffed. She spread her legs out, extending them as far as she could. Her foot waved in an attempt to kick Maya’s, but even with Maya’s legs opened, Riley couldn’t reach her. “I have long legs. You’re just short.”

“I’m not about to be bullied by someone with giraffe legs,” Maya said. “But I’m not short. I’m five feet.”

“After rounding up?”

“Ouch. Didn’t your dad teach you any manners?”

Riley laughed so hard she snorted. Maya was mildly terrified. “I’m sorry, but —”

“I accept your apology,” Maya said. 

“Hey! I’m not done with my insult! Gimme a second!”

Maya didn’t know how to respond to that other than giving Riley her silence.

“I’m sorry, but who called who a stuck-up bitch right after getting an apology from that stuck-up bitch?”

“How am I supposed to feel bad for calling you that when you just called yourself that too? And did you forget what your apology was about? What did you call me again?” Maya leaned forward, her hand cupped around her ear. “I can’t quite remember.”

Riley buried her face into her hands. Her shoulders slumped, her back sliding down Zay’s dresser until her elbows hit the floor. “You remember. You just want me to say it again.”

“I really do.” Maya hummed, clenching her hands above her head. “Can you say it? Just one more time?”

“Absolutely not!” Riley’s hands dropped from her face to reveal her gaping at Maya. “It was so mean. So rude! And I’m never mean and rude.”

“Bullshit,” Maya said, a laugh breaking over the word. “That’s so not true. You called me an asshole. That’s a little rude.”

“I shouldn’t have said it but in my defence —”

Maya’s lips thinned as she slouched back against Zay’s bed-frame. “And now she’s defending herself.”

“In my defence, you were acting a bit like a gigantic asshole.” 

“Oh, just a bit?”

“You were being mean to my dad! Heckling him for asking for a late slip.”

Maya resisted the urge to laugh again. “How are you a wasted seventeen-year-old using the word heckle?”

“I’m not wasted, I’m just tipsy, and my birthday’s in December, so I’m still sixteen,” Riley said promptly before she burped. “‘Scuse me.”

“You’re excused. And thank you so much for the corrections. But you missed one.”

Riley rubbed her eye, smudging her mascara. “I did?”

“Yes. I wasn’t being mean to your dad, I was just being … difficult.”

“That is the same thing as being mean.” Riley raised both eyebrows, a silent dare for Maya to insist otherwise. “You have to admit, you could’ve been nicer.”

It physically pained Maya to admit that Riley had a point. She really hoped Riley would forget all of this tomorrow. “Fine. You got me there. But I apologized to him.”

Riley’s mouth dropped. “You what?” Her eyes narrowed as she scooted forward, closing the space between them. Maya flinched, preparing for a strike, but all that came was Riley jabbing a finger into her shoulder. “You apologized to him? You didn’t even say anything that bad.”

“Are you kidding, you just said —”

“That guy deals with that every day! But he gets an apology, and I get … ”

Maya could see the gears turning in Riley’s mind, already knowing she would hate whatever Riley did next. 

Riley pushed her hair over her shoulder and fixed Maya with an exaggerated glare. In a voice an octave lower than her own, and one that sounded nothing like Maya, thank you, she drawled, “ _Are you allergic to not being a stuck-up bitch?_ That’s what I get?”

Part of Maya told her to be offended while the other told her to stop laughing. She listened to neither. “Is that why you’re still here? You want me to apologize?”

“And to annoy you,” Riley said. “I must do it really well because you’ve called me annoying, like, a million times this week.”

Maya dropped her gaze to the chipped nail on her right thumb. She traced her fading red nail polish. “Not a million times. Maybe two or three.”

“Sounds accurate.”

“ _MatthewsI’msorry._ ” Maya stared at her fingers, waiting for her heartbeat to slow down because she did it, she said her piece, but if anything, her heart-rate picked up. 

For once, Riley was silent. Even her breathing was inaudible. The silence stretched between them, expanding with each passing second. Maya hated this more than their bickering. She would even take Riley’s awful impression of her over this, so she opened her mouth and promised to forgive herself for whatever stupid thing she would end up saying. “Don’t take any of what I said to heart, okay? It’s all stupid shit. None of what I say matters because I’m just talking out of my ass half the time and I don’t even know you, and it wasn’t called for. Sure, you’re annoying, but that just makes you one out of a billion people, right? And you’re not, like, a bad person. Not that you need me to tell you that, not that you need anyone to tell you that but you, but — but you probably volunteer at a soup kitchen every other week and walk elderly people across the street and say please and thank you or what the fuck ever, which, nice, and it’s also nice that you stuck up for your dad. People need that, you know? Someone to fight for them, stick up for them, call the student late to class out for being an asshole, which, yeah. I was.

“And sure, we’re not exactly compatible and we won’t be best friends, but we don’t have to be, right? I’ll play nice for this project and I’ll do my share. I can even pinky promise you if you want. Okay. That’s it. You better not drink too much tonight and forget all of this tomorrow. I’m not saying it again. Okay?”

By the time Maya finally shut up, she was out of breath. Sweat stuck to her palms. Her throat dried. She felt like an absolute idiot, but that wasn’t new.

From beyond the door, in the living room, the music continued. Quieter than before, the song softer. Nostalgic, familiar. Not from this decade. The thuds of people’s feet against the floor and rounds of laughter were gone, replaced with intermingled voices following along to the song. Out the window from above Zay’s bed, the sky was nearly pitch-black. She squinted and spotted a single star dotted from above.

This was the quietest it had been all night. 

Riley still hadn’t said anything.

Maya took in a shallow breath. She willed herself to look up, at the quiet, almost stunned expression on Riley’s face. “Matthews?”

Riley pushed herself forward until she sat right next to Maya. Then, slowly enough that if Maya wasn’t frozen, she had enough time to move away, Riley laid down and nestled her head against Maya’s thigh. 

Maya tensed. Her fingers dug into the back of her thighs. The back of Riley’s head was warm, her long brown hair splayed out all over Maya’s lap. From this close, Maya made out the details of Riley’s face better. The trace amount of glitter trailing her forehead. A zit on the side of her nose. A clump of mascara in her eyelid.

Before she could open her mouth, ask what the hell Riley was doing, Riley shot her hand up. She raised her pinky. “I won’t forget,” she said solemnly. “Pinky promise.”

Maya vehemently did not want to touch her pinky to Riley’s but she was the one who brought it up in the first place. Besides, at this point, it had to be impossible to embarrass herself any further, so she lifted her pinky.

“You have to say the words pinky promise or it doesn’t count,” Riley said, hooking her pinky around Maya’s.

Maya counted to three before pulling her hand away. “Absolutely not.” 

Riley looked visibly disappointed but she shrugged, clasping her hands in her lap. “Fine, partner. I’ll take what I can get.”

.

.

.

Maya couldn’t explain why she stuck around in Zay’s room with Riley or even why Riley still had her head in her lap. But they just kept talking, and Riley had become a smidge more tolerable now, and most importantly, Maya’s legs fell asleep, so getting up would be an inconvenience.

Currently, Riley was on a tangent about her dad. How he always did these types of things, that she was annoyed with him for pairing them together but unsurprised. Riley kept repeating the word _boundaries!_ in a distressed voice. Honestly, it was the only thing Maya really caught. 

In her defence, she was trying to pay attention. But the night had started to catch up with her in the form of occasional yawns and drooping eyelids. Riley’s distracting, over-the-top gestures didn’t help. Her hands moved so much that there were several instances where she almost hit Maya’s face. And honestly, it wasn’t that invasive of a move on Matthews’ part. He had two students who couldn’t get along. He paired them up to fix it and it worked. Riley literally called for a truce not too long ago. 

Maya wasn’t going to say anything, though. Even if she was only half-listening, she enjoyed the pronounced vein in Riley’s forehead and the perpetual scowl on her face too much to interrupt.

Until she noticed something.

“Shut up for a second.” Maya squinted at the flash of white she caught in Riley’s hair. By some miracle, Riley listened to her and fell quiet. Maya pushed Riley’s hair out of her face, dove her hand in, and retrieved the white object in question. “Why is there a lollipop stick in her hair?”

Riley’s chin trembled. “Oh. Missy promised she took it out of my hair.”

Maya didn’t know what she hated more. Having to hold the piece of garbage or the nonchalance in Riley’s voice. “Why was it in your hair?”

“Missy put it there.” 

“Who the fuck is Missy and why the fuck was she —”

“She’s my best friend,” Riley cut in. 

“Your bestie sounds like a bitch,” Maya said blithely as she scanned Zay’s room for a trash bin.

“That doesn’t mean much considering you’ve called me that.”

“Yeah, well. I didn’t mean it. But I mean it with her. Why the hell would a best friend do that to you? Trust me on this. I’m an asshole. I recognize asshole behaviour.”

“She’s not a bad person,” Riley insisted, her breath hitching. “It was a stupid dare.”

“Really? Someone dared her to put this —” Maya furiously waved the stick. Her hand clenched into a fist around it. “Which I cannot believe I’m still holding. I swear, I’m buying Zay a garbage can for his birthday, because I don’t know how he doesn’t have one in his —”

Riley grabbed the end of the stick Maya wasn’t holding and pried it out of her grasp. From the front pocket of her blouse, she pulled a folded napkin out, tucked the stick inside, and slipped it back inside her pocket. “What were you asking about the dare?”

“What? Oh,” Maya said, her face warm. “The dare. Right. Please explain how she was dared to be a dick to her BFF.”

“Well. We were playing Truth or Dare, all of us sitting in a big circle. I’m sitting next to Missy, right, and it was Charlie’s turn to ask, so he asked Missy which she wanted and Missy chose dare, like always. And … don’t interrupt me until I’m done, okay?”

“I would never.”

Riley stared flatly. 

“I mean it! Keep going.”

Riley looked dubious, but she continued. “So Missy was almost finished with a lollipop when this all happened, okay? And when Charlie dared her then to do the first gross thing that came to mind, Missy bit into her lollipop, turned to me, and —”

“Holy shit,” Maya hissed, her eyes flashing. “She finished it just to push it in your hair? The wet, disgusting, recently in her mouth —”

“Hey! You said you wouldn’t interrupt!”

“I didn’t know it was going to be that bad! And it’s not like I didn’t know what you were going to say, anyway.”

Riley’s lips pursed, her jaw clenching. She looked irritated. Nothing Maya wasn’t used to. “Maybe you got it wrong.”

“She _didn’t_ push a piece of garbage into your hair?”

“No.” Riley’s gaze flicked to the ceiling, mapping the stars on Zay’s ceiling. “She threw it.”

Maya didn’t know why she laughed. An automatic response to something deeply uncomfortable, from shock, or because of the indignant way Riley stuck her chin out as she corrected her. Probably an awful mix of all three. “Matthews, that’s not better. And that’s why you’re here, isn’t it? You needed to get out of there. You couldn’t stand sitting next to her any longer.”

Riley smiled. Tight around the edges, strained more than anything. It felt like a pleasantry. Oddly polite in a way Maya disliked. She preferred Riley’s glower at one of the thoughtlessly rude things Maya had said to her this week or her sharp smile with her teeth bared. It would’ve been more honest.

“Almost,” Riley said quietly. “That was the first straw. Something else happened after that.”

“Something worse than garbage in your hair?” Maya pinched the bridge of her nose. “You need new friends.”

“Do you want to hear the rest of the story or are you going to keep insulting me?”

“That wasn’t even an — okay, fine. Please tell me the rest.”

“Aw, you said please. I didn’t know you knew how to — hey!” Riley gawked, her hands blocking her stomach from Maya. “Don’t elbow me!”

Maya tried to elbow her again but Riley swatted her hand away. “Quit stalling!”

“Don’t interrupt me again! But fine. So I laughed the dare off with everyone else, thinking that we’re all just drunk and that’s why Missy did it,” Riley explained. “So maybe half an hour later it’s her turn again. Haley dared her to kiss the prettiest boy in the room, you know, like from the Perks of Being a Wallflower.”

“Never seen it.”

Riley’s mouth hung open. “No way. It’s a classic, how have you not —”

Maya resisted the urge to elbow her again. “Are you seriously going to blab about some movie? Stop getting distracted.”

“It’s not _some_ movie, but fine!” Riley took in a long, measured breath. She tugged out the golden-coloured chain around her neck from underneath her blouse. Her thumb skated over the pendant, the rest of her fingers curling around the chain. It seemed to have grounded her, judging from the serenity in her voice as she spoke. “Haley dared her to kiss the prettiest boy in the room. So rather than kiss one of the many pretty, attractive, and single boys in the room, my best friend leaned past me and kissed the boy I’ve been dating for three years. It was just on the cheek, and she and Farkle would never do anything like that. I don’t even know why I’m upset, and really, I’m not anymore.”

“She still shouldn’t have done it,” Maya said quietly.

Riley heaved a sigh. “Yeah. The room went quiet, and she looked at me as if nothing had happened, and told me, you get it, right? And I didn’t want her to think I was mad at her, so I just! Laughed it off again! And said I had to go to pee, and I’d be back, and, yeah. I came here to hide.”

Maya’s hands balled into fists. She was going to grab the lollipop stick out of Riley’s pocket, march back into Zay’s living room, and stick it in Missy’s eye. Or she would if her legs hadn’t fallen asleep again. “You should be mad at her. And your dumb boyfriend! You’ve been gone for, like, half an hour, and he hasn’t even texted or come to check on you?”

“No. Farkle’s good, and I mean that,” Riley said sharply. “He knows that I need my space sometimes, to be alone and get out of my head. You know?”

“You said you need to be alone sometimes, but you’re not alone right now.”

“That’s … true.” Riley looked up from her necklace, giving Maya a half-smile. “But what can I say? You really do show up everywhere I go.”

An incredulous laugh burst from Maya’s throat. “You show up wherever I go. I was already at Topanga’s Monday after school when you came in with your boyfriend. Tuesday morning, I was talking to your dad when you came into class. Just this afternoon, I was on the bench in front of school waiting for Friar and guess what happened?”

Riley looked amused. “I came out to the —”

“You came out to the bench! And just a few hours later, I’m all cozy in Zay’s room when you come in. Explain that to me. ‘Cuz it seems like you’re following me, Matthews.”

“I have a more plausible reason for all of that.”

“Enlighten me.”

“It’s fate.”

Maya stared her down, but Riley didn’t waver. “You’re kidding, right?” Maya asked. “Even if fate was real, I think it has more important things to do than push together two history partners who barely know and tolerate each other. Those were all just. Coincidences.”

“Another way to say fate.” Riley waved her hand dismissively. She slid further into Maya’s lap, cupping back of her head. “I don’t know what the meaning of it is, but it could be, like, the first domino of something super important we can’t see coming yet. Like for example, on my first day of kindergarten, right, we had our own spots on the carpet. All organized by our last names. And Haley’s last name is in between me and Farkle’s. I’m Matthews, he’s Minkus, and she’s Mauris. So she was supposed to be in between us, but she was late that day. So for the half-hour she wasn’t there and the bit of time in the morning when we got to play around while the rest of the kindergarteners came in, I sat right next to Farkle. We ended up playing together and talking about — I don’t know, whatever five-year-olds talk about it. He instantly became my best friend. The rest is history. And so I believe that Haley being late was fate.”

There was another explanation for Haley’s lateness: her parents’ shit time management skills. Not fate. Besides, since Riley and Farkle had gone to school together all their lives, they would’ve been forced to talk at some point. It would’ve played out the same. Their relationship wasn’t a result of circumstance but compatibility. Fate shouldn’t get any of the credit for what Riley and Farkle had. It should go to Riley and Farkle instead.

But the smile on Riley’s face while small was sincere. She meant what she said. Maya couldn’t afford to be even bigger of a jerk than she’d already been by voicing her thoughts.

“I guess I finally have an excuse for nearly failing ninth-grade science,” Maya joked. “I’ll be sure to tell my mom that my D-minus wasn’t my fault but fate’s. I had to almost fail so I’d meet Friar. We both had the lowest grades in that class. So Friar asked me to skip it with him one day. And the rest is history.”

“That’s nice. Why do you call Lucas by his last name, though?”

“Why do you and everyone else call Farkle … well, Farkle?”

“That’s his birth-given name,” Riley said, unblinking.

“It’s not a nickname?” 

Riley broke into a fit of laughter, rolling around in Maya’s lap while she caught her breath. “You’re so confused! It’s okay. Everyone’s confused about his name. I’ve known him for a million and one years and I’m confused. But it’s a special name. Special like him. He’s a very special person.”

“Uh-uh,” Maya said, bemused. A Twitter notification lit up her phone, stealing her attention from the corner of her eye. The screen read 12:56 AM. Soft and slow music continued to play from the other side of the apartment. It played quieter now, the volume lowered. Lazy chatter mostly drowned it out.

Maya recognized this time of a party — er, kickback. All the energy from earlier had been used up. No more loud karaoke and friendship-straining games of Truth or Dare. Seven, maybe eight of the twenty of them had probably left already, the only ones with curfews to follow. Maya figured the rest were lounging around, sprawled across Zay’s living room floor. Still passing Red Solo cups of beer along with a joint or two. Playing cards. Talking about nothing and everything.

This time was her favourite part of nights like these. 

But tonight was different. She didn’t have a drop of alcohol in her. She wasn’t with everyone else, half-in Lucas’ lap but conspiring to cheat and trade cards with Zay in a round of Go Fish. Instead, she sat in Zay’s bedroom with Riley Matthews’ head in her lap. Unfortunately sober. Feet still asleep. A yawn rising from her throat. And the stark realization that she’d been talking to Riley for nearly an hour and hadn’t yet throttled her. Matthews would be thrilled.

“So,” Maya said. “Why did Minkus’ parents do that to him? I mean, Farkle? That’s making it way too easy for the playground bullies. I mean, his nickname could be Sparkle.” 

Riley grinned. “It is.”

.

.

.

A little after one, Riley started yawning. 

When Maya’s phone buzzed with texts from Katy, Maya looked away from Riley for all of one minute to read her mother’s texts and reply. It was a goddamn miracle: it turned out that Katy would get a ride from a coworker the following so Maya didn’t have to pick her up. She could’ve drunk to her heart’s desire.

Katy hadn’t even acknowledged their fight last night. Maya already knew their argument would be swept under the rug, never to be discussed again. Even if Maya tried to stay cold and hold her ground, she knew she’d cave after a week. Katy might apologize but vaguely, no indication of what for. Nothing would change. She would still see Maya as an irresponsible child. 

But wasn’t that fair? What reasons did Maya have to prove to her mom otherwise?

Maya shut that train of thought down. She just needed to sleep this off. Come tomorrow morning, she’d stop being dramatic about one dumb argument that her mom had probably forgotten all about.

She sent a quick ‘okay’ and goodnight in response to Katy. After she set her phone down, she glanced back at Riley. Already she should have known something was off. Riley had been too quiet.

Riley’s eyes were closed, her mouth half-opened. Her chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. Her head hung over Maya’s knee at an awkward angle, making a crick in her neck inevitable.

“So you can be quiet,” Maya whispered. She shifted her knee so it properly pillowed the back of Riley’s head. Riley stirred at the movement but didn’t wake. “Just don’t drool on me.” She returned to her phone, the reminder to stay as still as possible in the back of her head.

Maya figured that Riley would wake in a few minutes. But five minutes passed. Then fifteen, thirty. Riley’s snores started and only got louder, muffled by Maya’s thigh. Drops of drool dripped down her chin. Even then, Maya stopped herself from shaking Riley awake. Minkus would barge in at any moment and take his girlfriend home.

So when Riley’s phone rang, her ringtone a series of obnoxious and repeated quacking, Maya assumed it was Minkus. She cautiously extracted Riley’s phone from underneath Riley’s legs.

But there wasn’t a nauseatingly cheesy picture of the couple on screen. Instead, the phone lit up with a picture of Riley and her mom. Riley was hugging Topanga from behind, chin hooked over her mother’s shoulders and her arms wrapped around her. Maya recognized the backdrop as from behind the bakery’s front counter. She knew now that the infamous owner of Topanga’s was Riley’s mother but seeing a picture of them together, their blindingly white smiles identical, was still jarring. In the three years Maya had gone to Topanga’s, she must’ve seen Topanga herself about a million times. Probably with Riley too and yet she never pieced it together.

The top of the screen read: _MAMA BEAR_ is calling. 

Even with the blaring ringtone, Riley didn’t wake. She didn’t shift one bit.

Maya ended the call. Riley could deal with this later.

But then the phone rang again.

And again.

And again.

After the fourth call, text messages replaced the calls. Five to be exact. Maya risked a glance at the screen.

[MAMA BEAR]: Riley, where are you? You said you’d be home over an hour ago.  
[MAMA BEAR]: Farkle isn’t answering his phone either. You said he was your ride home. We’re starting to worry.  
[MAMA BEAR]: Are you safe? Are you okay?  
[MAMA BEAR]: We won’t be mad. I promise. We just want to make sure you’re okay.  
[MAMA BEAR]: Please call me. 

“Shit.” Maya bent down and shoved Riley’s shoulder. “Matthews. You’re dead. Wake up.”

Riley turned over, pressing her face into Maya’s knee. She tried to bat Maya’s hand away but missed. “Mm no.”

“ _No_? I wasn’t asking, I’m telling you!” Maya shoved Riley’s shoulder again, harder this time, and shook her legs. “Your mom’s worried. You’re worrying _the_ Topanga of Topanga’s. The world needs her pastries and smoothies, so quit being selfish and stop raising her blood pressure or whatever by stressing her out.”

“She’s a lawyer. Stress _is_ her job.”

“She owns a bakery and she’s a fucking _lawyer_? Shut up.”

“Mm, okay.” 

Maya dug her hands into her hair and tried not to scream. “For the love of God, _please_ get up. I’ll do no work on the project. You’ll have to do all of it.”

“Dad said if our partners aren’t doing their share that we should ... we should tell him ... so we get marked fair.”

Of course, Matthews had reasonable policies and of course, it had to screw her over. “Fine.” Maya shrugged, tapping her fingers against the screen of Riley’s phone. “I’ll tell your dad you were _drinking_.” 

Riley’s eyes instantly shot open. “You have no proof.”

“I have my word. You don’t think that’s enough with your dad?”

“It is,” Riley said miserably. She stretched her arms above her head, rolling out of Maya’s lap and onto the floor. “You said my mom’s worried?” 

Maya handed Riley her phone. “She called. And texted.”

Riley’s face fell. She jumped to her feet, swiping one of the missed calls before holding the phone to her ear. “I’m dead, I’m dead, I’m dead, I’m — Mommy! Hi, what’s up?”

Maya hid a grin behind her fist. She couldn’t hear exactly what Riley’s mother was saying but Riley’s wince said enough. Riley bit her lip and nodded, pacing back and forth across the room.

Amused, Maya watched the colour drain from Riley’s face until Riley finally spoke over her mom. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t think that it would get so late, but —”

The door kicked open. Riley didn’t seem to notice, continuing her explanation in a hushed-whisper. 

“Wake up, Hart, there’s pineapple, pepperoni, and vegetarian in the —” Lucas fell silent at the sight of Riley. His eyebrows pinched together. He looked at Maya, then back at Riley, glancing between them before he sputtered out, “What?” 

Maya leaped to her feet, quick to usher her and Lucas out the door. She shut the door with her back. “It’s not what it looked like.”

From underneath the hallway light, Maya could see just how much Lucas was sweating. At some point, he had removed his shirt. The white tank-top that remained was drenched. His face, ears, and neck were pink, eyes red but still alert. He laughed with his entire body, the sound filling the hallway. “It looks like you made a friend! Is this where you’ve been the entire time? With Matthews? We figured you fell asleep.”

Maya rose on her tiptoes and tousled his hair. “Your hair is very wet.”

“Yes. And you’re very ignoring my question.”

“Yup.”

“Were you plotting to kill her? Or were you arguing and then she had to take a call? I know y’all weren’t doing history work so —”

“Maybe we were doing history work,” Maya cut in, folding her arms. “I could be a good student. I could do _homework_ on the weekend.”

“Hey, I know you could! But like. Zay’s got good grades and he and Gardener are throwing up and taking turns with the toilet. And Minkus is like a genius, and he’s asleep on the kitchen counter. His head kept falling into the sink so I had to move him down the counter.”

“Minkus is asleep? Could you wake him up? Pretty sure he’s Matthews’ ride and she needed to leave, like, hours ago.”

Lucas’s eyebrows furrowed. “I could but he’s in no shape to drive. He’s had too much to drink.”

“What about Bradford?”

“Who?”

“You know. Tall, brunette. Cheerleader.”

Lucas shook his head.

“Gardener dared her to do something gross and she threw her fucking garbage into Matthews’ hair,” Maya said flatly.

“Oh! Yeah, sure. I know her. She’s already gone.”

Maya screwed her eyes shut, throwing her hands up into the air. “What the actual —” She heard the doorknob to Zay’s room twist before she felt the door open, turning around right as Riley stepped out.

“Guess you’ll have to do the entire project because I’m totally … dead.” Riley’s voice faltered as her gaze moved past Maya to Lucas. Her eyes widened but her polite smile was sincere. “Oh. Hi, Lucas.”

Even though Maya had known him for three years, it was still jarring to see Friendly and Well-Mannered Lucas in action. With his number of detentions, classes skipped, and the fact that he had never gone a semester without landing himself in the principal’s office for either a verbal altercation, a physical one, or all three — the sight of him, drunk and tired, still extending his hand for Riley to shake was baffling. He was full of contradictions. It was one of her favourite things about him. “Hi, Riley,” he greeted.

Riley shook his hand. Even with the furrow between her eyebrows, her smile only widened. 

“Yes, he really does shake the hand of every person he meets,” Maya said, poking Lucas’ side. “Texas-born and proud.”

His nose wrinkled. “Proud is too much. It’s just an old habit. But it’s a good habit. People should shake hands. It’s polite.”

“It really is!” Riley exclaimed. “It should make a comeback. Let’s bring it back!”

“Before or after your mom kills you for being late?” Maye interjected, tapping her wrist. “You’re late, remember? And you’ve got bad news. Your driver’s not only asleep but is way too drunk to drive."

“But you can just take his car, right?” Lucas rooted around the massive pockets in his jeans and pulled out a pair of keys. “I have his car keys.”

“Why?” Maya and Riley asked.

Lucas laughed, swinging the car keys around his forefinger. “Hey, that was cool. Do it again.”

“No,” they said.

“Stop doing that,” Maya snapped.

Riley made an offended noise, squaring her shoulders. “ _I’m_ not doing anything. I was just — oh my god, I need to go home, it’s like, two am, and I’m getting distracted _talking to you_.”

Maya grabbed Minkus’ keys from Lucas and forced them into Riley’s palm. “Take your boyfriend’s car.”

“I don’t have my licence, remember? And since I still had a little to drink, I can’t possibly drive home, holy crap, I’m —”

“Oh my god.”

Riley’s eyes narrowed at Maya. “I _know_ I should’ve been responsible, thank you very much. I land myself in these situations all the time so please don’t remind me how stupid I am, because trust me, I already —”

Maya hadn’t even realized she’d spoken. “What? No. Shut up. I can’t believe I’m considering this but … ” She let out a shaky breath and opened her palm at Lucas. “Can I drive your car to drop her off?” 

She half-expected him to refuse, ask why she cared enough to drive Riley home at this hour. But all he did was nod, pull his keys out from his back pocket, and drop them into her hand. 

“I haven’t had a drop of beer tonight,” Maya promised. “So don’t worry, and I’ll take care of your car, Friar, I swear, not a single scratch or —”

“Hey,” Lucas interrupted. He closed her hand around his keys and gripped her hand, thumb dragging over her knuckle. “I know.”

Maya blinked. “That’s it? No warning?”

“Um. Be safe? Don’t speed.”

Maya bit back a smile. “Noted. I’ll be back soon.” She shifted onto her tiptoes to press a kiss to the side of his forehead. From the corner of her eye, she spotted Riley’s eyes darting away from them and towards the ceiling.

The tips of Maya’s ears turned pink. She waited for Riley to say something snarky, but Riley just cleared her throat and said, “You don’t have to do this. I made my bed. Now I have to die in it.”

“That’s not the expression,” Maya said. “It’s lie in it.”

Lucas scratched his head. “Isn’t it sleep in it?” 

“It is absolutely not,” Maya started before she remembered who she was with and that neither of them was sober. This had to be the most mature decision of her life: “Yeah, no, we’re not having this conversation right now. Let’s go before I change my mind, Matthews.”

“Maya,” Riley said softly. “You don’t have to. I’ll call my mom or get a cab home. I’ll figure out.”

“What, you don’t trust me driving you home? Think I’m doing this just to pull the rug out from underneath you later?” 

“That is _not_ it. It’s just a lot to ask.”

“Good thing you’re not asking. So yes or no? Want me to give you a ride or not?” Maya didn’t know what she was doing, but to be fair, that applied to pretty much everything and anything she ever did. Giving Riley a ride home didn’t have to be a big deal. Maya wasn’t going to make it one.

“I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this,” Riley said, but she was smiling. 

.

.

.

The drive couldn’t have lasted more than fifteen minutes but it felt much longer.

At first, as Maya drove out of the parking lot, Riley kept thanking her. Maya told her to chill out because it really wasn’t a big deal. Several minutes passed. Riley hadn’t spoken. Maya wondered if she’d managed to offend Riley again, but a quick glance out of the corner of her eye proved otherwise. Riley had only fallen asleep again, body facing the window, her breathing as quiet as the radio.

Somehow this exact moment was so much weirder than anything else from tonight. Driving Lucas’ jeep at nearly three in the morning, snug in his hoodie she found in the backseat. Heading toward Topanga’s but going into the Matthews’ residence instead of the bakery. Taking a sleeping Riley Matthews home after spending most of the night with her. 

Stranger things have happened. But at that moment, Maya couldn’t come up with one.

Soon enough, Maya parked into a spot right in front of Topanga’s. She put the car in park, undid her seatbelt, twisted the keys out. Even after Maya called her name, Riley didn’t wake. Maya reached across the console and blindly shoved at Riley’s shoulder. 

“Stop doing that,” Maya said. “Quit falling asleep.”

Riley grunted in response. 

Maya rolled her eyes. She climbed out of the driver’s seat, shut the door behind her, and walked to the other side of the car. She opened Riley’s door. The reflection of the nearest street light shone on Riley’s face, illuminating her grimace. 

“Out.” Maya hoped Riley wouldn’t need any help getting out of the car and that she wouldn’t trip. Her only bit of good luck this entire night was that neither of those things ended up happening

Maya silently walked Riley past Topanga’s, into her apartment building, and toward the elevator. The foyer was empty, the only sounds their breathing and their feet against the squeaky-clean, white-tiled floor. The harsh lighting made Maya squint and pull Lucas’ hoodie over her head.

“You should come up,” Riley said as she elbowed the button that led up. “My mom would want to thank you and there’s probably hot chocolate and a snack or two waiting. It’s, like, not the same as in the bakery, but not worse. Just different.”

Maya glanced sideways, crossing her arms. She must have hallucinated Riley’s request, but the earnest expression on Riley’s face didn’t let up. “Are you seriously inviting me to your _apartment_?” 

“Like that’s any weirder than you driving me home.”

“Do you even hear yourself? It is very much weirder,” Maya whisper-shouted. “Like. Your mom wants to _thank me_?”

Riley sighed, rubbing the nape of her neck. “How is that weird?” 

“Why would she thank me? I just drove you home.”

 _Ding_. The elevator doors opened, but Riley didn’t move. “Yeah. You did. Can I hug you?”

Scratch what Maya said before. This was the weirdest part of the night. “No thank you?”

Riley nodded, undeterred. “Okay. Thank you so very much. Have a great night. Drive back safe!” She actually _bowed_ before hopping into the elevator in the split-second before the doors began to close. 

“Matthews,” Maya blurted. She thumbed her finger through the hole of Lucas’ sleeve, reminding herself that Riley probably wouldn’t remember this tomorrow. “You better still be annoying on Monday.” 

The doors closed before Maya could gauge Riley’s reaction. From behind the elevator door, Riley’s muffled voice came out: “Pinky promise!” 

The red arrow above the elevator pointed up, the numbers climbing to the third floor. Even after the numbers cleared, she lingered. She stared at the elevator doors until its golden colour was all she saw. Lucas’ car keys were clenched in her palm. His sweater was heavy around her shoulders, two sizes too big for her, but she still couldn’t get warm. She wondered if any of this would seem real in the morning or if it would still feel like a fuzzy dream.

“‘Scuse me. Going up?”

Maya staggered back. She clutched her chest, hand over her pounding heart as she took in the stranger next to her. Middle-aged guy in a black blazer. Scruffy beard with lines of silver. Dark bags underlined his eyes. He held a briefcase in one hand, a camera slung around his neck. 

“Sorry,” he said over a yawn. “Didn’t mean to scare you. You were just in front of the button, that’s all. You okay?”

“Uh, just had to drop someone off.” Her phone chimed in her pocket. She pulled it out far enough out of the hoodie pocket to glance at the screen.

[Fuckboy Friar]: u ok????  
[Fuckboy Friar]: this is Zay btw I can’t find my phone and Luke just threw up   
[Fuckboy Friar]: Drive Safely DON’T LOOK AT THESE IF UR DRIVING 

The elevator doors opened once again. The man stepped in and elbowed his floor’s button. “G’night.”

Maya tipped her head in acknowledgement. She pocketed her phone away, walked out of the building and across the parking lot, and climbed back into Lucas’ car. 

For a moment, she just sat in the dark. Reclined her seat back, hugged her knees to her chest, stared out the window. It was impossible to make out anything more than a few stars, but she tried anyway. When she gave up, she found peace in just watching the full moon hang in the sky, the glow of the night quieting her mind.

Her phone buzzed with another text. 

[Fuckboy Friar]: Luke just threw up again :((

She adjusted her seat back up and dialled Lucas’ number, call on speaker. 

“Lucas is not having a great time,” Zay said.

“Did he make it to the toilet this time?”

“Got all of it in an empty chip bag, actually.”

She whistled. “Wow. Nice. And you’re feeling okay?”

“Yeah! Haven’t thrown up in an hour!” 

“Good.” Maya started the car. The radio automatically turned on, late nineties pop. “And you’re okay?” 

“Yeah? Are you?”

“... Yes?” She couldn’t tell if he’d forgotten what he said about earlier tonight or not. But she couldn’t possibly bring it up _now_ , especially considering that a handful of his friends were right by him and would probably be spending the night. He would bring it up if he wanted to. And honestly, if it really were an issue, Lucas would have already known. Zay didn’t need her prying into his business when he had his best friend to talk to. 

“Alright, I’m gonna go now.” She stretched her arms above her head, hissed when they hit the roof of the car. “Don’t throw up again.”

“Don’t dent Luke’s jeep.” 

“Don’t take too long in getting back here. I have _so_ many questions about you driving Riley home.”

“I’m ignoring that. I’ll see you when I get back, okay? Go hold Friar’s hair back or something.”

“I am!” Zay had to be joking, but then muffled noises sounded from his side of the phone, followed by Lucas’ weary voice: “Hi, Maya. I’m fine. Totally fine. Charlie’s making tea. We’ll tell ‘em to make you a cup too.”

“Thank you. That’s very nice.” She chuckled, struck with an intense pang of fondness. Drinking a warm cup of tea, sitting with Zay and Lucas on the kitchen counter before they cleaned the place up with the rest of the guys still awake and coherent — it sounded nice. “I’ll see you guys soon, okay? Hang in there. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! hello! sincerest apologies for the delay in this chapter!
> 
> i had my first draft done, but then Life Things Happened, and when i finally returned this, the tone of it felt so off that i kept rewriting and rewriting and rewriting. i went back and forth so many times, but now i'm just like. it is what it is. there's a lot i still like about this chapter, but also i cannot look at this any longer or else it'll never be posted.
> 
> there's a Lot in this chapter, but i just wanted to comment on two things. 1) this still a slow burn, so if it feels like things are moving too fast, just trust me! 2) missy! also trust me on her. there are no villains in this story. 
> 
> thank you for your patience! i'd love to know your thoughts on this chapter. hope y'all are well and taking care. see you on the next one (which i promise will not take a month to come out).


	7. Chapter 7

“I’m not late, I’m not late, I’m not —” Maya stopped so suddenly at the doorway of her history classroom that she almost tripped over her feet. “Am I early?”

Six of her classmates were already seated, all on their phones. The remaining twenty-something seats, Riley’s included, were empty. 

“You are,” Matthews said from his seat at the front. He blew over his steaming mug of coffee before he took a sip. “Did you sprint here?”

Maya’s nose wrinkled at the accusation. She waited until she caught her breath to say, “Absolutely not.” She ambled toward her seat and slung her backpack over the back of her chair. Only as she sat did her tiredness catch up to her: her feet were sore, forehead damp with sweat, a yawn building in her throat. She was already over this week, let alone this day, and it was only Monday.

Her phone died in the middle of the night while she slept. None of her seven alarms went off so she woke up over an hour later than intended. When her phone recharged at a quarter to eight, Lucas’ texts, sent from much earlier that morning, finally came through. 

[Fuckboy Friar]: I am so sorry but I cant give you a ride this morning

[Fuckboy Friar]: Something came up and Ill explain later today

[Fuckboy Friar]: See u later

[Fuckboy Friar]: Sorry again

He’d never flaked on her before. She started to think about what could have possibly happened. Lucas never skipped class alone. If he was sick, he would’ve said so outright. 

Before her mind could go to the worst-case scenario, Matthews cleared his throat. “Maya? Could you speak with me for a minute?”

Maya’s stomach turned. She hadn’t done anything wrong. It was way too early in the school year for that. It was usually in mid-October, sometimes in November during midterms, that she got complaints. Requests to speak with a parent, pointed reminders that there was still time in the semester for her to bring her mark up. 

It was only three weeks into the school year. Had she already disappointed him?

She dragged herself up to her feet and towards his desk. “If this is about Riley, then you have to know it won’t be a problem anymore. I mean, it probably won’t be? She likes me now, I think, or at least doesn’t hate my guts, and we’ll get along, so you don’t have to tell me to play nice, because I will, and —”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Maya. This isn’t about that. Not at all. I mean, a little. It _is_ about Riley, but about what you did for her Friday night. Bringing her home?”

“Oh. I cannot believe you let me blab on like that.” 

“Sorry,” he said, but his amused smile wasn’t the slightest bit apologetic. “But that is good to hear that you two have made your peace. I wanted to thank you for bringing her home safe and sound. I knocked out really early, but my wife was really hoping you’d come up, say hi. She had tea and cookies.”

“For _me_?” She didn’t know people this weirdly polite actually existed. It made sense given that she was Matthews’ wife, runs Topanga’s, and spawned someone as terribly bright and peppy as Riley. In that same regard, it didn’t make sense considering all the grief she caused not only Riley but Matthews last week. “Does she know who I am? That your kid hates me?”

“Our kid doesn’t hate you,” Matthews said. “And since your name’s come up a few times at dinner last week and Riley had to tell her who was taking her home, yeah, she knows who you are.”

Maya nodded, a lump forming in her throat. What could have happened had she accepted Riley’s offer to go up to her apartment? Not just Riley’s apartment, but the apartment belonging to her history teacher and the owner of her favourite bakery. It would’ve been way too much at once and she would’ve been deeply uncomfortable, but still. She wondered. “Okay, cool. So she’s as ridiculously nice as you.”

His smile grew. “You think I’m ridiculously nice?”

“No, just ridiculous.” She kicked at the floor, wringing her hands out in front of her. “But, yeah. You’re kind of nice. You’re not a terrible teacher. And you probably aren’t a crappy dad considering how hard your kid went to bat for you when I was giving you shit. She loves you a lot.”

“That’s true,” a voice chimed in. 

Maya’s face flamed red. Her eyes screwed shut, nails digging into her palms. She refused to turn around even as Riley’s footsteps became louder and closer. “You didn’t hear all of that, did you?” 

“What, you calling both my parents nice and praising my dad? I heard all of it, but if you wanna repeat it, then by all means.”

Maya swung around, finger raised in Riley’s direction, but her movement stuttered at the pleased smile on Riley’s face. She took in the sight of Riley, clad in her cheerleading uniform, hair pulled back in a high ponytail, beads of sweat on her forehead. “You look much better than you did Friday,” Maya started, half-insult on the tip of her tongue, but Riley cut in and did the job for her.

“It helps that there isn’t any garbage in my hair and that I’m not falling asleep on you,” Riley said, almost shy, as she adjusted the red ribbon looped into her hair-tie. “Oh, and that I’m not being an idiot and drinking beer I can’t handle.”

Maya’s eyes widened. “Dude, your dad is, like, right here.”

“Oh, he knows.” Riley looked past Maya to smile tightly at her father. _“_ As soon as I got home, I got a fun lecture, and as soon as I woke up the next day, I got an even better lecture from him. Thank you, Dad, for all the statistics on teen drinking and driving. Your daughter who isn’t that stupid, and who also _can’t drive,_ really appreciated them.” 

Maya winced, preparing for Matthews’ scolding.

But he didn’t even seem upset. He actually beamed at his daughter, repeatedly curling and uncurling his penguin-covered tie around his finger. “Now you've learned your lesson.”

“Mom and Shawn already gave me a lecture.” Riley rested one hand on her hip, the other in a fist that bunched up the side of her skirt. “I didn’t need another one from you.” 

“Clearly you did, considering how dangerous it was to —” A flood of students rushed inside, hasty to beat the incoming bell. Matthews straightened his back and dusted his grey blazer. “I know that you’re sorry. It’s your mistake, so joke about it all you want. I think we handled it appropriately, but if you disagree, then by all means, let’s talk at dinner.”

“C’mon, that’s three against one. The odds aren’t in my favour,” Riley protested, but she was quickly softening, all the irritation in her voice gone. “You’re setting me up for a loss here.”

The class phone, next to the front door and hung on the wall, begun to ring. It flashed a bright red. Several students’ voices blurred together to inform Matthews that someone was calling.

“You’re good with challenges.” Matthews rose to his feet. He smiled again, a softer one this time. “Nothing you can’t handle.”

“Get the phone, Matthews,” Riley said with an eye-roll but her voice came out fond. “Quit making the office secretaries wait.” 

It must have been an inside joke because Matthews and even a few of their seated classmates laughed. He shook his head and promptly half-jogged across the room.

Maya had no idea what she just witnessed. How Matthews and Riley went so quickly from bickering to joking around was She turned to Riley, an eyebrow raised. 

Riley stared back. “What?”

“Nothing.” Maya side-stepped past Riley and returned to her seat. When Riley plopped into her own seat, sitting backwards to face Maya, her arms hugging the back of her seat, Maya added, “I only figured, I don’t know, that you’d be totally dead after what happened on Friday.” 

“Are you implying that you want me dead?”

“What? No, how did you reach that —”

“I thought we had a truce or something, but —”

“What the actual fuck are you talking about, we _do_ have a —”

“But I get it, you know, I’m too annoying and perky and I should take the hint.”

“You’re _not_ annoying, except you are in this very moment —” Maya quieted. Her eyes lingered on the twitch in the corner of Riley’s mouth. “Holy shit. Are you bullshitting me right now?”

“Absolutely!” Riley collapsed into a fit of giggles. “You don’t think I’m annoying.” 

“Actually, I said that you’re being annoying right now,” Maya said but it didn’t come out as flat as she’d intended.

“Well, you did tell me to continue being annoying come Monday, and it is Monday, so. I’m doing what you asked me to.”

There was nothing more painful than having your own words come back to bite you in the ass. “I guess I did say that,” Maya conceded. “Okay, fine, you got your weird validation. Happy?” 

“Overjoyed,” Riley said so brightly that, not for the first time, Maya couldn’t determine whether she was sarcastic or not. “Not only because I successfully play you —”

Maya scoffed.

“But because I have a million ideas for our project. We’re gonna crush it.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think I agree with you.” Maya flipped through her notebook, stopping when she landed on the pages of research she did in this very classroom, last Friday after school. She tipped her notebook towards Riley. “I did some research, actually? I don’t know how much of it is good, but if you wanna take a look at it, make sure it’s not shit.”

Riley snatched Maya’s notebook. She examined it closely and gawked as she went over the three pages of notes Maya had completed. “You did all of this? In your own time?”

Maya’s jaw set. “You don’t have to be so _shocked_ about it.” As if this all wasn’t surprising to Maya herself. “I’m not a complete idiot.”

“No, no, it’s not that. I mean, I am a little surprised, but in a good way. This is good. _Really_ good. I didn’t know you were so studious.”

“I’m not.” Maya squirmed in her seat, crossing her legs. She sized Riley up, waited for a punchline, something snarky to follow, but that never came. Riley meant what she said. Maya didn’t know why it made her so uncomfortable. “This isn’t even half the work we’ll have to do to get a decent grade. Lower your expectations or you’ll get disappointed.”

“I’d rather be disappointed than cynical,” Riley said.

Maya opened her mouth, ready to defend herself but stopped short as Riley reached across Maya’s desk. Her fingers stopped at the edge of her table but it was still too close.

“I wanted to thank you again, for Friday. You didn’t have to but you did. You looked out for me, listened to me ramble and make an _idiot_ of myself, even though you had no reason to, so thank you. I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” 

“Make it up to me by never bringing it up again,” Maya said, throat dry. “It was a ride. You don’t owe me your firstborn over it, okay? Let’s just do this stupid project.”

Riley broke out into a grin. She raised her hand, elbow propped on Maya’s desk. If she was going to ask for another pinky swear or whatever the fuck, then Maya would drop out of this class —

“Maya?” Matthews called out by the front door. He was still on the phone, his hand covering the receiver. “You’re wanted in guidance.”

Riley’s eyes narrowed. “What did you do?”

“No — _excuse_ me! I didn’t do anything. You’re called to the office if you’re in trouble, not guidance. And yes, I’ve been in trouble to know that, but that is not the point.”

“You can leave your things,” Matthews said. “It shouldn’t take long.”

Maya reluctantly stood, wincing at the painful creak her chair made against the floor. “Do you know what it’s for? _Am_ I in trouble?” 

“I’m not sure why you’re needed, but I’m sure it’s nothing bad,” Matthews said. “You should be fine.”

Maya tried to believe him even if the unease coiling around her ribcage said otherwise. She marched across the classroom, tempted to walk out of the school and not come back. But her backpack would be left behind in the classroom. Both Matthews had already seen her. And it had only been a week since she decided to maybe start caring about her education and her future. How pathetic she’d be, if she quit so soon. It was too early for her to give up.

On her first step outside the classroom, she bumped into Zay.

“Where you going?” He was breathless, flushed red with sweat, his face twisted in alarm. His duffel bag reserved for sports was slung across his back, his binder and pencil case clutched to his chest. 

“Guidance. No idea what for, but I’ll explain later.” She wanted to ask about why Lucas was busy this morning, wanted to ask Zay if he remembered his nihilist ramblings from the party, wanted to know if both boys were okay or not. But the bell rung. Class had officially started. Guidance was still waiting on her. 

She settled on briefly squeezing his shoulder and nudging him towards the door. “Don’t be late.”

Zay snorted a laugh. “Hypocrite.” He walked backwards into class, parting with a two-fingered salute. “Text me if you need saving. I’ll sneak into Guidance and break you out.”

Maya laughed, and just like that, the tension in her bled out. She wholeheartedly believed him. He really would slip out of class, go into Guidance, and try and charm either the secretary or her counsellor to break her out. There was no way it would work, but he would still try. 

With that in mind, she took in a deep breath and headed off in the direction of the guidance office. 

.

.

.

Maya had to be hallucinating. 

She pinched her right arm. Looked around the guidance office to see if the secretary also noticed. Closed her eyes, rubbed them hard enough that she saw stars.

When she opened her eyes, Katy was still sitting in one of the three seats lined next to the office door. Not a hallucination. She really was here.

“Hi, baby.” Katy lifted her purse from the seat next to her and dropped it onto her lap. She wore her diner uniform, the familiar yellow and blue standing out against the colourless office. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, held together by a maroon scrunchie Maya swore was hers. Dark bags underlined her eyes like they always did after she had worked a night shift. But usually, after a night shift, Katy would be fast asleep in her bed. Not here, at Maya’s school. Maya couldn’t even recall if Katy had ever been at Abigail Adams before. This had to be the first time.

“Mom, what’re you doing here? Whatever they said I did is a lie because I didn’t do anything.”

“You’re not in trouble, honey. Last week, you said I wasn’t involved in your life and your education, so here I am. Involving myself.”

“What.”

“I made an appointment with your guidance counsellor.”

“Why.”

“To talk options! How you’re doing in school right now, what your options are for next year.” Katy tried for a smile. “I thought about what you said, and I know you were upset about it, so isn’t this what you wanted? I mean, this will help you. Won’t it?”

Maya’s heart clenched. She sank into the seat next to Katy, draped her hand over Katy’s knee. She was still half-convinced this wasn’t real. A lucid dream seemed more possible than this being real and yet. “I thought you’d forgotten all about that.”

Katy covered Maya’s hand with hers, her hand warm against Maya’s cold fingers. “I wouldn’t have forgotten. Not when it was so serious and clearly bothered you.”

Warmth burst inside Maya’s chest. She gripped Katy’s hands, her throat clogged up with emotion. She couldn’t believe Katy remembered, that this was something she thought about all weekend, that she wanted to make it up to Maya to the point of coming all this way even after a long shift at work.

“Miss Hart?” The secretary behind the front desk called out. She peered at them through large, moon-shaped glasses, and smiled faintly. “Ms. Dunbar’s ready to see you now.”

Side-by-side, they walked across the room and into Maya’s guidance counsellor’s office. A conversation about Maya’s future, her life after high school, what she’s good enough to do. This might actually go well.

.

.

.

It went terribly.

“I’m not dropping art,” Maya hissed. “It’s the only thing I’m good at. It’s the only thing I _like_.”

“But where will it take you? You have to be realistic.” Katy sighed, rubbing her temple. “You could take a business course, a math course, a science —”

“Sure, if you want me to fail it and not graduate on time because of one missing credit.” Maya gripped the armrests hard enough that her knuckles whitened. She tore her eyes away from Katy and looked pleadingly at her guidance counsellor. “Ms. Dunbar, can you tell her how insane she’s acting?”

“Do not call me that for wanting what’s best for you,” Katy snapped.

“If you wanted what’s best for me, you wouldn’t be bitching about art the way you are now. Maybe I want to go to art school!”

“Very funny. Do you want to be a comedian too?”

“Ladies,” Ms. Dunbar interrupted. “I understand that this is a tense and complicated topic. But it’s not efficient if we spend our time arguing like this instead of having a productive conversation. Why don’t we take turns expressing our thoughts? No interruptions, I-statements only, and we’ll work something out.” She gestured to Katy, shiny purple nails pointed in her direction. “Mrs. Hart, why don’t you help Maya understand why you feel like she should replace her last-period art class with a different course?”

Katy’s lips thinned. She didn’t correct Ms. Dunbar, that it was Ms. and not Mrs. but Maya knew she had to fight that temptation. “I feel like there’s no point. Senior year is so important in determining where you go from here, and there’s not a sustainable career in the arts. Phys-Ed is good for her health. She needs English to graduate. History meets one of her graduation requirements. But Calculus would have been helpful toward a career that she could actually be successful in but she dropped it in place of a class where she just draws.”

Pressure built behind Maya’s eyes, blurring her vision. She zeroed in on the potted plant on Ms. Dunbar’s desk, trying to focus on the green instead of Katy in her peripheral. 

“Maya?” Ms. Dunbar gently prompted. “What do you think?”

Maya wouldn’t cry. She refused to. Her eyes shut, long enough for her tears to subside and her breathing to steady. This was her life. It wasn’t much, certainly not something she was proud of, but maybe one day, she could be. The only way would be through her art. 

Art wasn’t only the one thing she was good at it but it was the one thing she wholeheartedly loved. She’d had her nails sunk into it for as long as she could remember. Doodles on tests she knew she’d fail. Paint splattered on every pair of shoes she owned. Drawings on her bedroom wall spanning from the ages of five and onwards, hidden behind her bed, dresser, nightstand. She wasn’t letting go. Not now. Not ever.

Maya steeled herself. Chin held high and eyes cleared of all tears, she forced herself to meet Katy’s s eyes.

“You were the one who literally fucking signed off on me dropping Calc to get into art,” Maya spat out. “It’s too late for me to switch classes, and I’m not going back to a class that I hate and that I’ll fail. So you can quit trying to change my schedule and accept that that’s not going to happen. Okay?”

“You’re making a mistake.” The dismissive bullshit in Katy’s voice from mere seconds ago was gone, replaced with a newfound urgency. Her eyes, brown and round and nothing like the ones Maya saw staring back at her in the mirror, softened. She touched Maya’s wrist.

Maya wanted to understand. But that same effort wasn’t extended to her so she wouldn’t bother. 

“Then it’s my mistake to make.” Maya yanked her hand out of Katy’s grasp. Her chest tightened as Katy’s face crumpled. 

Katy’s hand hovered over Maya’s. It could be the lighting, what with the light-bulb directly above Katy’s head, that explained the glisten in Katy’s eyes. But as soon as Maya recognized it, it was gone, and Katy pulled her hand back to herself.

“Fine.” The defeat in Katy’s voice felt like a quiet victory. “You like the class?”

“No, I just enjoy screaming and fighting for classes I hate.”

“Your sarcasm isn’t needed right now.”

“Neither is this stupid appointment.” Maya offered Ms. Dunbar a weak smile. “No offence.”

“None taken,” Ms. Dunbar said. “So now that that’s ... settled, how about we talk about plans after high school? Maya, what would you like to do?”

Maya scratches her neck, slumping in her seat. “Um. I’m interested in college.”

“Oh thank God,” Katy exhaled.

“You don’t have to be so _dramatic_ about it, mom.”

“I’m not being dramatic, I’m just happy to hear that! I’m not always out to embarrass you or get you.” The crinkles in Katy’s face smoothed out. Her hand twitched like she wanted to try and touch Maya again, but she didn’t, lacing her own fingers together instead. “I _am_ proud of you sometimes.”

The words knocked into Maya like a punch to the throat. “ _Sometimes_?”

“Okay, wait, that’s not what I meant, I —”

Even Ms. Dunbar winced, waving her hands out to recapture their attention. “Maybe we should get back to college-talk.”

But Maya continued to stare Katy down, her voice deathly quiet and calm as she said, “No, mom, please explain how you’re proud of me only sometimes.”

“Maya, I misspoke,” Katy insisted. “I didn’t mean it like that. You know that.”

It still stung, deepening the ache inside of her until it spread all over. But there was nothing to do about it now. There was no point in getting upset about a few stupid words. Sitting here, glaring at her mother like she was a child, wasn’t doing anything. She was wasting everyone’s time.

“Yeah, okay, whatever.” Maya ignored the familiar sensation of pressure behind her eyes all over again. She blinked, hard enough that her eyes dried, and nodded at Ms. Dunbar. “So. Let’s talk college and how much ass I’ll have to haul to somehow get into one next spring.”.

.

.

“I don’t understand why you had to wait to tell me until we got inside.” Maya gestured to Topanga’s as they sat in their usual seats in the heart of the bakery. She sat in her own seat, across from both boys who occupied the orange sofa. She sipped her iced coffee, idly shaking the cup to hear the rattle of the ice cubes. “I don’t know why you had to wait to tell me at all.” 

“Suspense,” Lucas said through a mouthful of raisin cookie.

“You’re disgusting,” Maya tells him.

“For voluntarily eating a cookie with raisins in it or eating with your mouth open?” Zay scratched his chin, pretending to think, before he elbowed Lucas. “Oh, wait. It’s both.”

Lucas thwacked Zay’s hand away as he chewed the rest of his cookie. “I’ve seen both of you throw up. Let me be.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Maya said.

“And how good are your friends if they don’t call you out? Exactly,” Zay said. “You should thank us for being good friends.”

Lucas smiled dryly. He wiped the crumbs off his hands with a napkin prior to squeezing Zay’s shoulder. “Thank you two for being good friends.”

Maya and Zay shared matching looks of bewilderment. “Should you ask or should I?” Maya asked.

“I’ll ask.” Zay bumped his knee against Lucas’. “Was that you being sarcastic or getting sappy with us?”

Lucas leaned back into the couch cushion. He clasped his hands behind his head, his grin soft around the edges. “I’m sure you two can figure it out.” He didn’t even blink at the balled-up napkin Maya flung at his cheek.

“Was this your news?” Maya made a face. “That we’re both good friends and you really wanted us to know that?”

Zay slapped Lucas on the back. “Well, tell her your big announcement, man.”

Oh. She’d assumed Zay was in the dark about whatever Lucas wanted to announce, just like her. Her mistake. Of course Lucas’ best friend would know before his — whatever Maya was. No reason for her to expect otherwise.

She sat back in her seat, taking another sip of her iced coffee to wash down the sour taste in her mouth. Whatever the news was, judging from how the boys keep nudging one another, elbows and feet knocking as they giggled helplessly, it must be good. 

“Just spit it out.” Zay held the plate of cookies close to his chest and away from Lucas. His free arm hid it from view. “Or _I’ll_ spit it out. All over these cookies. And then you can’t have one.”

“You think I won’t eat one just ‘cuz your spit is on it?” 

“He’s serious.” Maya nodded grimly. She twirled the bitten up straw of her drink, considering what Lucas’ news could possibly be. He quit his part-time job at his local grocery store? He and Jo were moving apartments? “The number of times he’s ended up with my chewed up stick of gum in his mouth —”

Zay’s lower lip curled up in disdain. “That just means you’re both disgusting.”

“Again, I’ve seen you vomit,” Lucas stressed. “I’ve seen you vomit over my _shoes_. Multiple times. Like last Friday, for example?”

“Complete accident that time, man.”

“What do you mean _that time_ —”

“Focus,” Maya said over their voices. “Tell me already.”

“Okay, I’ll just. Say it.” Lucas drew in a heavy breath, rubbing his hands up and down his knees, smiling to himself. “I joined the football team.”

“You joined the football team!” Zay slung his arm over Lucas’ shoulder and knocked their heads together as they burst into laughter. “We’re gonna be _teammates!”_

“I didn’t even know you played.” The words left Maya automatically, gone before she understood what she was even saying. But something in Lucas shifted, the ease in his smile gone.

“It’s no big deal.” Lucas hung his head low as his right hand fidgeted with the bottom button of his shirt. “Used to play back home but I haven’t played in awhile.” 

Zay retracted his arm from around Lucas’ shoulder to pat his back.

“Dad was super into it, so,” Lucas explained monotonously, lacking any of the warm sentimentality his words warranted.

She couldn’t believe that it had been all five seconds since Lucas dropped his big news and she’d already fucked this up. Okay, she could believe it; it was one of the most consistent things about her. But she couldn’t believe how quickly Lucas’ mood soured, how the light in his eyes died the moment he brought up Texas. 

But she could fix it. She had to.

Maya stepped up from her seat. She took two steps towards them, squeezed into the sofa, and nestled into the space between the arm of the sofa and Lucas. Her knee dug into Lucas’ thigh and she had to twist her back at an awkward angle to look at him. She dropped her hand onto his knee and squeezed. “That is a big deal, okay? That’s really cool. I’m happy for you.” 

Just like that, whatever cloud passed over Lucas left as quickly as it arrived. He smiled, all dimples, extending his arms around Maya and Zay’s shoulders. “I’m on a fucking sport’s team.” He looked at Zay and corrected, “ _We’re_ on a sport’s team. Together. Holy shit!”

Zay and Lucas bumped fists. They started cheering, spewing out football phrases that Maya didn’t recognize, growling like bulldogs even though their school mascot was a dumb patriot of all things, and calling out their apparent school chant that Maya had never heard of. It was all so childish, silly, and loud. Maya certainly wasn’t going to sit there and _not_ join them. 

An elderly man at the window seat gave them the stink-eye. But out of the rest of the patrons, he was the only one bothered. No one else glared at their laughter. No one else cared. Even the barista, a twenty-something guy with a buzzcut and a septum piercing, didn’t mind. He was on his phone but when he glanced up to see who was making all the noise, he cracked a smile at them then returned to his screen.

Maya joined in on their school chant and made her voice even louder. When the man looked her way, she held eye contact, unblinking. He quickly looked away, his frown deepening. She laughed so hard she snorted.

Until a middle-aged woman approached them, stopping behind their coffee table. Her dark blonde hair was pinned back. She wore a purple apron, the bakery’s name printed in small letters in the centre. Her warm smile was familiar but Maya couldn’t put her finger on it. “Hi guys, can I —”

Like deer caught in headlights, they fell silent and froze. They stared up at the woman, her friendly smile unwavering.

Zay was the first to break the silence. “It’s finally happening. We’re getting kicked out. Miss, we love it here, so we’ll shut up, we swear.”

“Please don’t ban us, ma’am.” Lucas flashed her a charming smile, but his voice audibly shook. “We’re loyal patrons and we love your bakery, Ms. Topanga —”

Maya couldn’t believe she kept not knowing who this woman was. She had seen _the_ Topanga so many times over the years, behind the counter, or seated in a table of her own with her laptop and a million files scattered across her table. Most recently, she saw her on the screen of Riley’s phone as Topanga blew up her daughter’s phone with incoming calls. 

In her defence though, she had never been this close to her. Topanga rarely manned the front counter. From what Maya’s gathered in her years as a devoted patron to Topanga’s, Topanga seemed to work the earliest and/or latest hours possible and handled everything business-related. She must have occasionally done the actual baking, judging from her apron and the smidge of flour on her nose. 

Maya straightened out her legs so they crossed at the ankle. She stopped slouching. Tried to smile as politely as possible. Hoped to God that the short length of her jean shorts, the five different holes in them that she was responsible for, as well as her smudged, dark-red lipstick all wouldn’t make Topanga think that Maya was low-level trash. 

“Oh no,” Topanga said, shaking her head. “I’m not here to complain. You guys are fine, okay? I just wanted to speak to Maya.”

“ _Maya_?” Zay and Lucas asked, which. Fair.

Maya was vaguely aware that staring blankly at someone who had come over to speak with you was kind of rude. She should say something. Literally anything. But all she could do was point back to herself, the closest she could get to confirming that _yes, this is Maya_ , without having to speak.

“I wanted to thank you for bringing Riley last Friday. It was very kind of you.”

Maya let out a shaky laugh. Her face was hot, hands continuously shifting from her thighs to her knees to her hair. It was only a mother, trying to thank her for looking after her daughter. That was normal. Nice, even. It should calm her down. It didn’t. “Oh. Yeah. You’re welcome? It really isn’t a big deal. Anyone would’ve done it,” she said even though that wasn’t true. If it were, Topanga would have no need to thank her.

Topanga tugged on her apron, smoothed out its wrinkles with the back of her hand. “Still. Thank you.” Her eyes darted to their table, scattered with their plates of cookies and their drinks. 

For an awful split-second, Maya stiffened. She leaned her legs away from Topanga, heart pounding at the idea that Topanga’s going to _hug her._

But Topanga simply grabbed Maya’s half-empty iced coffee. Her smile turned curious as she tapped the plastic cup. “You like our iced coffee?”

“Oh, she buys it almost every day,” Zay said. 

Lucas hummed in agreement. “It’s an addiction.”

Maya snapped her head back to glare at them. _The_ Topanga of Topanga’s didn’t want to hear about Maya’s obsession with her drinks. And _how_ were they talking to her so easily without making an ass of themselves, because Maya could use the advice —

Topanga handed Maya her iced coffee back. “That’s great to know. So, free iced coffees sound good then?”

Maya nearly dropped her drink. “Oh. Wow. That sounds great. I’d appreciate a free drink. You guys have really pretty vouchers.” They had vouchers for their most popular items. A pink slip, with flowers all over it, promising either a free medium-sized drink or two of a certain pastry. 

“Oh no, not _a_ free drink,” Topanga corrected. “I mean free for life.”

This time, Maya did drop her drink. All over her lap. But she didn’t notice until Lucas silently folded a napkin and cleaned her knee with it. Only then did the cold stinging sensation start and spread, all across her thighs, half-melted ice cubes pooling between her legs, but again, that was nothing compared to the cool shock of what Topanga had said.

“I’m sorry, what?” Maya pinched her calf. Definitely not dreaming.

Zay touched her elbow, tipping his head towards the girl’s washroom but Maya couldn’t move. 

Topanga thankfully didn’t look irritated at the mess Maya made. She looked more amused than anything. “Does that sound okay to you?”

“You really don’t have to. I drove your daughter home, like, once, and even then, she hates me, and I spent the entire night annoying her, and the past few weeks annoying your poor husband in class —”

“Don’t you worry about him. He can take it. As for Riley, she doesn’t really hate anyone. Even then, she certainly doesn’t hate you.”

Maya didn’t know what to make of Topanga’s matter-of-fact tone. She wanted to ask how Topanga was so certain because maybe she and Riley were on okay terms now, but a little part of Riley must be repulsed by her, and how did Topanga really know if —

“Okay, we’ve gotta get you cleaned up. Maya?”

Maya blinked. She looked at Zay who stared back at her with a frown. Upon looking down at her lap, she understood why. The iced cubes had completely melted over her bare skin. The last inch of her shorts were drenched. Goosebumps had risen over her arms, her legs. She was trembling.

Maya grabbed another napkin from the table. In one stroke, she wiped all the liquid from her skin. Nothing could be done for her shorts. She could go to the washroom, try and get the brown stain out but it would wash off in the laundry. Even if it didn’t, she didn’t really care about these shorts. As she scrubbed at the stain with her own fingers, she found a sixth new hole. She should probably throw this pair out anyway. “I’m fine. Really.” 

Topanga nodded her head at the front counter. “Why don’t we get you another drink?”

“Like. A free drink?” With a cautious edge to her voice, Maya stood from her seat.

“Yeah. Unless you wanna pay?”

“Absolutely not. But are you sure?”

“Yes, honey. I’m sure.”

“Do you mean that, though, because you really don’t have —”

Lucas poked Maya’s hip with her now-empty plastic cup. Without turning around, she batted his hand away, but he did it again. “What are you _doing_?”

“We taught you better than this,” Zay continued, whisper-shouting. “Take. The. Free. Drinks. ”

“I have to agree with them,” Topanga said. “Take the drinks.”

“I guess sometimes they have a point.” Maya took the plastic cup from Lucas, not without blindly elbowing him and humming when she nabbed his chin, and followed Topanga to the front counter. She threw a quick glance at Lucas and Zay over her shoulder. 

Lucas gave her a thumbs-up. Zay mouthed ‘GET US FREE STUFF TOO PLEASE’. 

She flipped them off, but as soon as she chucked her empty cup in the trash bin at the front, she rooted around her back-pocket for her change. She wouldn’t ask Topanga for more free stuff. She would buy them something herself. 

As they approached the front, a young boy popped up behind the counter from the back-door. He carried in a fresh tray of muffins. With his abundance of curls, tiny purple apron, and his bright and silly smile, Maya knew right away that this was a Matthews. 

Topanga brightened at the boy. She reached across the counter to pinch his cheek, laughing at the face he made. “Do me a favour. Ask Clara to pour and bring in a cup of iced-coffee when she’s back from her break?”

“Mom, _I_ can do it.”

This time Topanga made a face. “Are you sure?”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I do, honey, you know — oh, I see what you’re doing.”

“Is it working?”

“Yes.” After he set his tray inside the glass counter along with the rest of their fresh pastries, Topanga ruffled his hair. “Okay, go get this nice patron her order.”

The kid flashed Maya a braces-clad smile. “It’ll be the _best_ you’ve ever had.” He turn and ran off, disappearing behind the door leading into the kitchen.

“I know I was hesitant but he really is good.” Topanga winked. “I need to head back up, so I hope you’re okay with —”

“Of course I’m okay with it. But why are you okay with ... I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, but I really don’t deserve this. I didn’t _do_ anything. You don’t need to be so nice.” Maya swallowed. She stepped back, hooked her thumbs into the holes of her shorts, and waited for Topanga’s smile to finally fall off her face.

But it only got bigger. “Do you believe in karma?”

What this had to do with free coffee, Maya didn’t know. But unfortunately, this was her favourite bakery with the best student discounts. Maya couldn’t afford to turn around and walk away from the bakery’s owner mid-conversation. So she gave a shrug and said, “Not really.”

“Well, that’s okay. I really believe in it. I think the universe has its eyes on us and that karma is just as real a force.”

“So you want to do a nice thing to have nice things happen to you?”

“No. _You_ did a nice thing and I want to make sure you get your nice thing in return.”

Maya didn’t know what she’d done to deserve this, how one car ride constituted all this kindness she hadn’t earned otherwise. But Topanga’s smile was earnest and Maya couldn’t help but smile back. “You’re very similar to your husband. You’re both so weirdly nice.”

“The words make it seem like a compliment, but your tone suggests it’s an insult.” 

“It’s neither,” Maya said. “It’s an observation. A fact. Don’t take it the wrong way, I didn’t mean it —”

“Oh, don’t worry. Getting compared to my husband? Always a compliment to me,” Topanga said so genuinely, a flicker of light shining in her brown eyes, that Maya’s heart clenched. “I didn’t mean to steal you away from your friends for so long. Let Riley know if you have any questions about the whole drink deal, okay? It was really nice meeting you.” With that, Topanga turned around, shimmied past the counter, and headed out the same door her son had left. 

There wasn’t even a second for Maya to process any of this — properly meeting Riley’s mom and Matthews’ wife, free iced coffee for life for being an unpaid Uber driver, getting acquainted with _another_ Matthews and having him take her order — before a surprised voice sounded from behind her. 

“Maya?”

Maya couldn’t believe her luck. She also couldn’t tell if it was still rotten or if it was finally turning around. 

Maya turned around, not the least bit surprised to find Riley standing a foot away from her. There was no one else in the line. Just them. 

A glimpse at their usual, orange sofa seats and she found Minkus talking to Lucas and Zay. Minkus stood behind their seats while the other two sat, their heads craned to look up at him. It looked like Minkus was telling them a story, talking animatedly with his hands. Something that got Zay nodding rapidly and Lucas biting his lip the way he did to keep from smiling. 

Maya flicked her gaze back to Riley. Riley was still in her cheerleader uniform from this morning, but with a black windbreaker draped over her shoulders. It probably belonged to Minkus, Riley was probably cold, and Minkus probably offered her his jacket. How domestic. 

Several strands of Riley’s hair were out of place. Her lip gloss was pink, freshly-applied, bare enough that Maya only notices it because she was this close. Riley’s left hand clutched the strap of her backpack while her right absentmindedly twisted the chain of her necklace. The same one she’d worn on Friday. With Topanga’s fluorescent lighting and Riley so close, Maya properly made out the pendant: a small golden sunflower.

“Hey,” Riley continued. There was something contained about her that Maya automatically noticed and automatically disliked. Riley was quieter, for one. Less movement, more stillness. Her smile was small, tentative. 

“What’s wrong with you?”

Riley’s smile fell. Her eyebrows drew together, mouth set in a hard line. “Excuse me?”

Maya repeated the question.

“I refuse to answer your baiting question and insult myself.”

Maya stared.

After a beat of silence, Riley huffed. “Are you just going to stand there in silence and wait for me to figure it out? What are you, my therapist?” In the span of ten seconds, Maya managed to ruin whatever composure Riley had built up. Now, Riley was completely uncontainable — her voice grew louder, she wagged her forefinger around, and she wasn’t smiling anymore, her lips pursed together. Perfect. This, Maya liked.

“Absolutely not,” Maya said. “Do not talk to me about your personal problems again. Last Friday was a fluke. Okay?”

“Fluke as in, me talking to you about stuff, or fluke as in —” Riley gestured vaguely. “All of it.”

“Fluke as in you need to have a ride managed before you get drunk and make sure your boyfriend doesn’t flake on you.”

“He didn’t flake, and he apologized a lot, and made it up to me with —”

“That’s a personal problem. See, what did we _just_ say about those?”

“Okay,” Riley said in a small voice. Maya almost felt bad, but Riley fixed that immediately. “So did you get in trouble this morning, because you were gone the entire period, and it was kind of worrisome —”

“Aw, worried about me?”

Maya didn’t even expect an answer. She certainly didn’t expect Riley’s pointed eye-roll and her loud “ _Of course_!” 

“It wasn’t anything serious,” Maya said, hoping that the crack in her voice went unnoticed. “I didn’t mean to bail on the work-period. Tell me what to do before class tomorrow and I’ll do it.”

“No need. I got started. Your notes were pretty helpful, actually! But I’m worried we’re falling behind. Presentations start next week, so we need to be done before next Monday. There’s some assembly for our grade tomorrow during first-period, so that work period was moved to Friday, but I won’t be there. At least in the morning. I have an appointment.”

“An appointment,” Maya repeated.

“I will not tell you what the appointment is for because you _just_ said no talking about personal problems, so don’t ask what —”

“I didn’t ask!”

“Good!” 

“You’re not like dying or anything, are you?”

“Oh, no. I mean, probably not. If I am, then yikes, but that’s not what the appointment’s for.” Riley deflated. Her hands fell to her side as she let out a small and squeaky laugh. “So I figured that since my dad hangs around Friday after school anyway for students to work and ask questions, we could meet up and work on it there? I know it’s not, like, a big deal, and I wouldn’t be a stickler on it if it weren’t senior year, and —”

“Quit that.”

“Oh my god, what annoying thing did I do _now_?” 

“The only annoying thing was thinking that I thought you were doing something —” Maya gave up on that thought entirely and went straight to her point. “I meant, quit, like, apologizing. You take your shit seriously. Cool. Own it.”

“That’s really nice of you,” Riley said slowly.

“I am capable of kindness,” Maya deadpanned. “I know, it’s a shock to me too.”

“Hey, I knew that! You drove me home last —”

“If I have to hear about that one more time, I will scream! First your dad, then your mom offering me free iced coffee for a lifetime, and of course she’s _cool_ and pretty and the best!”

Riley’s lips twitched into a smile. “Why are you yelling?”

“I don’t know!” Several patrons eyed her with caution, that annoying old man included. Maya didn’t give a shit about any of it, but she did give a shit about how amused Riley was. “Look. Remember what I said this morning? About not bringing that ride up again? I mean it. Tell your parents to stop being so nice. And _you._ Don’t be so formal.”

“Be annoying instead?”

“Yes! Exactly.”

“Then don’t complain about me being annoying later.”

“I would never.” Maya meant it, but the mock-serious way she said it earned her Riley’s loud and unfiltered snort of laughter. Maya extended her hand out. “So? We’re good? Clean slate and all, no debts or vendettas or whatever, just two history partners who are going to nail this assignment?”

Like a ray of goddamn sunshine, Riley beamed. She all but squealed, clasping Maya’s hand into a handshake so vigorous that Maya bit the inside of her cheek to keep from hissing out in pain. Riley’s strength made sense. Cheerleading was an intense sport. Maya didn’t know why she was surprised, why she kept getting surprised by Riley.

“Deal,” Riley said. “We’re going to crush it. We’re going to kill it. We’re going to murder it.”

Maya nearly cracked a joke about Riley needing to chill out. But then she remembered what she just said to Riley, about owning her intensity, and decided against it. She didn’t know where the line between them was but she wouldn’t risk finding out by unwittingly stepping over it. 

“One order of iced coffee!”

Little Matthews returned to the other side of the front counter. He slid Maya’s drink over. Brimming with her iced coffee, the plastic cup had a Sharpie-drawn smiley face decorated over it below the white slip with her order on it. It had way more milk than she was used to but the kid grinned at her so widely his cheeks must have hurt. Maya didn’t like kids. She’d never really been around them. Hell, she wasn’t even sure if this kid _was_ a kid or a preteen or if there was a difference at all. 

But he looked so proud, his voice high and cracking as he asked her what she thought.

Maya knew she was an asshole. But she had a soul. As she ignored the stack of straws in front of the cash register in favour of popping the lid off, she readied herself to lie for this child’s wellbeing. 

But then she tasted a few drops. It didn’t taste bad so she took a proper sip. Then another. And another. 

“Holy shit,” Maya said. She probably shouldn’t swear in front of a kid but her expletive only makes his grin widen. She lowered the cup from her lips to nod approvingly at Little Matthews. “Does this run in your veins? Are all you Matthews’ inherently good at making things taste like heaven?”

“Look what you did,” Riley whispered next to Maya. “You just gave him the perfect fuel.”

Maya didn’t understand what she meant until Little Matthews shrieked out a laugh. “No!” He stuck his tongue out at Riley who returned the gesture. “Riley’s terrible. She mixes up salt and sugar. She can’t even make hot cocoa.”

“Anyone can make hot cocoa,” Riley argued. “Even if it is bad.”

“That’s not the selling point that you think it is, Matthews.” Maya took another swig of her drink, eyeing both siblings. 

That vein in Riley’s forehead returned, getting pronounced as her brother added, “And that’s why I’m allowed in the kitchen and you’re not.”

“I do yoga for this exact reason. Not for cheerleading, not to improve my flexibility, not because my instructor is an absolute revelation. No, I do it to cope with being an older sister to you because it is _so_ —”

“Your insult’s taking too long,” Little Matthews cut in. “I’m bored now. I’m leaving. Bye iced coffee lady!”

Maya stifled a laugh only because Riley looked seconds away from throttling her brother as he headed back into the kitchen. 

“Do you have any younger siblings?” Riley asked.

Since no one else stood in line, Maya leaned against the counter, next to the display of freshly-baked pastries. “No?” 

“Be thankful.”

“It’s really that bad, huh?”

“The worst.” Riley’s fond half-smile said otherwise. She shifted her eyes onto the display and inspected the slices of red velvet cake set atop it. 

“Oh crap,” Maya blurted out. “I meant to buy something else too. You have like, employee privilege or whatever right?”

“Uh, yeah. I can sell you something.” Riley sat backwards onto the counter and slid onto the other side in one swift motion. 

Maya didn’t need to glance at the overhead menu in chalk. She knew all of their deals by heart, cherishing their three-cookies-for-a-dollar deal especially. “Can I buy some cookies? Three raisin, three chocolate?” She fished her coins out of her back pocket. Counted out two dollars. Passed those coins towards Riley while the remaining, several nickels and a dime, went back into her pocket. “And do not make them free, seriously. If you’re nice about this, I’m never coming back here again.” 

Riley chuckled softly as she rings up the register. “Then I’m definitely making you pay.” 

A minute later, with two bags of cookies and her first of many free iced coffees, Maya returned to Lucas and Zay. Right as she approached the orange sofa, Minkus turned around and nearly knocked into her.

His hands darted out to catch her drink that thankfully didn’t fall. “Sorry there. My bad.” 

“It’s fine.” 

“Oh. Hey, Maya.” 

They’ve never had a conversation before. Sure, they had English together and Riley’s probably bitched about her to him but this still felt weird. She just wanted to sit but Lucas and Zay are watching her now. She couldn’t be rude to their friend even if Zay’s sudden closeness to him was still jarring.

“Hi.” She couldn’t bring herself to say Farkle with a straight face. 

“I wanted to thank you for driving Riley —”

“No need,” Maya interrupted. She couldn’t take _one more person_ thanking her for this. Physically, emotionally, spiritually, she couldn’t handle it anymore. She would never drive Riley home again with how incessantly she’d been reminded about it. “She told me you apologized?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, sheepish. “It wasn’t right of me to do that to her.” No excuses, no following up with _but I’m sorry_ or _it won’t happen again._ Just an unbiased statement on his wrongdoing. 

It was stupid to praise guys for the bare minimum. The bubble of appreciation for his simple gesture persisted anyway.

“Don’t do it again,” was all she said before she walked past him and plopped into her seat across the boys. 

“I gotta head up. Riley and I are studying,” Minkus said to Zay and Lucas.

“Studying, huh?” Zay raised his eyebrows. “And with the folks around? That’s bold.”

Minkus rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “I’ll see you in class tomorrow. Bye everyone.” He shot both Zay and Lucas a smile and, much to Maya’s surprise, waved at Maya. “Nice talking to you three.” He walked off to the front to meet Riley. 

Maya resisted the urge to watch him go, bewildered by his insinuation that their fifteen-second conversation was anything but uncomfortable. She’d rather not take the chance to potentially see him and Riley engage in PDA even if she was confused _._

“So,” Maya said. “What’d I miss?”

Zay and Lucas did that thing that Maya was both endeared and annoyed by. They held an entire conversation with only eye contact and facial expressions. She had long since given up trying to decipher them, resigned to waiting impatiently for their decision to switch back to communication that could take part in.

Ten seconds later, an understanding must have passed between them, because they looked at her at the same moment.

“What was all that?” Zay asked.

“What was what?”

“All that,” Lucas said, clarifying absolutely nothing. 

“What,” Maya said.

“ _The_ Topanga talking to you, offering you free drinks,” Lucas explained. “And then you talking to Riley. I mean, I know you guys hung out at Zay’s kickback but I didn’t think you were friends.”

“I didn’t think you and _Minkus_ were friends,” Maya huffed back. “He wasn’t here talking to only Zay. He was talking to you too.”

“So? What’s the big deal?”

“My point exactly. Not a big deal at all.”

Lucas bristled, puffing out a breath. He raised his hands in a _what do I know anyway_ gesture. There was more he wanted to say, some point he was trying to make, but for whatever reason, he decided against it. The curious part of her wanted to egg him on anyway to hear it but she trusted his judgement. 

She also didn’t want to keep talking about Riley and Farkle.

Zay looked between them cautiously. “Are you two fighting? Is this a fight?”

“No,” Maya and Lucas said.

Zay sighed, wiping an imaginary drop of sweat from his brow. “Good. Even though Luke and I are still very confused, we’re proud of ya. Getting a lifetime of your favourite drink for free? Nice.”

“Thanks. Just for that, here are some gifts.” Maya tossed the bag of raisin cookies and the bag of chocolate chip cookies toward Lucas and Zay respectively. When they both caught it, faces splitting into matching grins, she hummed. “Star football players indeed. You do have to catch in football, right? I only kind of know how this game works.”

In about half an hour, Lucas had to leave, having promised to help Jo with dinner. 

Once he was gone, Maya asked Zay, “So, when d’ya plan on going?”

“Maybe not soon? You don’t have to stay but I don’t really wanna go home yet.”

She checked her phone. The screen read 5:48 PM. “Don’t you usually have dinner with your parents at, like, six?” Zay had been shocked when she’d told him she usually ate after nine and mostly alone. In turn, she’d been shocked that he had dinner at six pm, on the dot, every day with his parents. 

He shrugged, pulling his backpack off the floor and onto his lap. “I’ve got lots of homework. Got that history assignment too. It’d be easier to work here, you know? And I can eat, like, ten muffins to compensate for dinner. Easy.”

Maya watched Zay rifle through his backpack, his forehead creasing as he rooted around the bottom of it. She thought about his offhand remark at his party, how quickly he’d gone from moroseness to his cheery self like a switch. How this morning he’d legitimately offered to break her out of Guidance. How really had no reason to befriend his old childhood friend’s bitchy and off-putting lab partner turned Girl Friend, but he did. 

“I’ll stay,” she said easily. 

“You sure? Don’t have dinner with your mom or anything?”

“She’s got work tonight.”

He set his blue binder onto the coffee table. “Guess anything beats spending the night alone, huh?”

“What is this? Zay Babineaux and self-deprecation?” She nudged his knee with her own before retrieving her history notebook. “I don’t know where that came from but knock it off. I’m here because I want to be. I can’t believe I’m saying this but c’mon, let’s do some homework.” 

Zay’s eyes warmed and crinkled with a smile. “Can’t believe I heard you say it either but that sounds good to me.” He took his last remaining cookie out from its brown paper bag and broke it into half. He shoved one half into his mouth and thrust the other into Maya’s hand for her to eat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaaand welcome topanga and auggie! 
> 
> not much to say, other than Stuff Is Happening. ik the pace of this fic has been a bit slow but now that we have all the pieces and the groundwork laid out, we're kicking into full gear!! ty for your patience.
> 
> comments/kudos are always appreciated! until the next one. :-)


	8. Chapter 8

At the very beginning of Wednesday’s history class, Matthews wrote ‘GUESS WHAT’ in huge, loopy lettering on the chalkboard. He pointed back to his words with chalk-covered fingers. 

Maya waited for Matthews to follow up with his announcement. Instead, several students raised their hands. One by one, Matthews called on them. They made guesses with what might have been genuine cheer in their voices. None of them were correct so far but they kept guessing. 

It wasn’t even nine am yet. Even with the cup of coffee that she’d hastily consumed before rushing out the door to reach the subway on time, Maya was still half-asleep. She’d yawned three times in the past five minutes. Too groggy to sit upright, her head rested above her arms on her desk. She could barely function. And Matthews was out here, playing a guessing game with his twelfth-grade students who, more bizarrely, were actually _participating._

“You’re giving us a pop quiz?” Yogi asked from the back.

Matthews shook his head. “Nope. Which is a good way to bring up to students that haven’t had me before that I will never assign pop quizzes. I’m morally against them. Good try though. Okay, let’s do one more guess before I cut the fanfare and just tell you guys.”

Maya glanced from Zay’s empty seat to the classroom’s closed door. He and Lucas probably lost track of time post-football-practice, messing around somewhere in the school, making jokes only they would find funny, and laughing hard enough that if Maya shut her eyes and concentrated, she could probably hear them. A half-smile spread across her lips at the thought and undid her knot of worry. He’d be here soon. She had nothing to worry about.

She rolled her head over, chin tucked into the curve of her arm, and forced herself to stop staring at Zay’s desk and look ahead. Her eyes caught sight of the back of Riley’s hand as it shot up in the air. 

“Is this what I think it is?” Riley asked.

Maya barely stifled back a snort. She didn’t understand the point of Riley raising her hand only to speak without being called on anyway. If she wasn’t fighting back another yawn and genuinely curious to hear Riley’s guess, she would’ve asked. Instead, she hid her face behind her arm as she intently watched the back of Riley’s neck.

Matthews leaned against the edge of his desk. He shrugged. “I don’t know. What do you think it is?”

“Why bother setting due dates if you just keep —”

“ _Guess what_? What’re we guessing? Oh!”

Zay shut the classroom door behind him. He squinted at the chalkboard as he walked towards Matthews’ desk, holding out a yellow slip in hand. “I’ve got a guess. And a late slip from Coach Gleason. But the guess is more important.” 

Maya sat upright. She tried meeting Zay’s eyes but when he didn’t look away from Matthews, she leaned back in her seat to look out the classroom door’s window. Distantly, she made out Lucas attempting to, and failing at, subtly peeking into the classroom. 

She wondered what he was doing, how he couldn’t possibly see that Zay was inside and not in trouble for being late, until Lucas’ eyes settled on Maya. He flashed her an easy grin and waved wildly. He was so ridiculous. But considering the hand she clapped over her mouth to keep from laughing, so was she.

“GO TO CLASS” she tried mouthing. His grin only widened. She almost repeated it but he finally nodded and promptly left.

At the front of the room, Matthews skimmed Zay’s slip. He gave a hum and tossed the slip over his shoulder and onto his desk. “You didn’t miss much, Zay. Riley was in the middle of her guess when you came in so —”

Riley flicked her hand. “Go ahead, Zay.”

Zay shuffled toward his seat. He dropped his backpack into his lap, zipped it open, and rifled through his things without looking down. “Please tell me you’re giving us an extension on that project.”

“Ding ding ding, we have a winner!”

As the class broke out into noise, Charlie whistling from the back, Matthews strolled back to the chalkboard. In the corner, below the underlined ‘GR. 12 HIS’, he erased the due date for their first project underneath and corrected it.

As he wrote, Maya resisted the temptation to lay back down and doze off in favour of leaning out of her seat to tap Zay’s shoulder. “What kinda parallel universe are we trapped in where _I_ come to class not only on time but before you too?” 

“Hello to you too.” He shifted around in his seat, legs moving to the right edge of his seat, to face Maya. As he spoke, he spun a blue pen around, flipping it between his fingers with ease. “I’m not saying Luke and I got distracted by his locker and forgot about going to class after practice, but — okay, that’s exactly what I’m saying. Don’t give me that look. You know how many times _you_ and Luke have gotten distracted and been late meeting at Topanga’s, my place, or the —”

“Okay, I get it. Friar and I have terrible time management.”

“He’s actually not that bad. He was super early to Monday’s practice and he was fifteen minutes early today picking me up. I was still in the shower. Lovely mental image, right?”

“The loveliest.” Maya considered this. “So he only has terrible time management with us? Wow. We’re great influences.”

Zay ducked his head with a laugh. Maya’s fingers twitched for a pencil with a sudden want to recapture the crinkle in his eyes on paper. Couldn’t be too hard, right? Not from the millions of times she’d made him laugh to see it before. 

“We really are good for him. We raised him well.”

“ _Maya_.” 

Maya didn’t look at Riley upon hearing her name whisper-shouted. She waved her hand in Riley’s general direction. “One sec, Matthews.”

“No, not one sec, you need —”

Maya sighed, clicking her tongue to the roof of her mouth. She reluctantly obliged and moved around in her chair to face Riley. “You’re seriously _so_ impatient.” Riley sat with her legs crossed, head craned over her shoulder, eyes narrowed at Maya. That only made Riley’s slow smile even odder. “If this is about the project, then —”

“It is, actually.” 

Maya’s shoulders clenched. The only reason she dared look over to her left where Matthews stood, down the aisle of desks and in between Maya and Zay’s seats, was because she couldn’t bring herself to watch the giddiness blooming across Riley’s face or the ‘I-tried-telling-you’ in Riley’s eyes. (Even though Maya knew Riley would just say it after class.)

She tilted her head up and met Matthews’ eyes with a timid smile. “Hi.”

Matthews smiled back. She stared at him, her heartbeat thudding inside her ribcage, louder than the awful silence of the classroom, but she couldn’t find anything insincere in his gesture. “Hi, Maya,” Matthews said. “Hi, Zay.”

Zay propped his elbow up on his desk, sitting his chin in the palm of his hand. His charming smile in full force, he tipped his chin up at Matthews. “We did that thing where you tried talking again, but _we_ kept talking, even as everyone else got quiet and stared at us and silently told us to shut up because you were waiting for us to stop. Didn’t we?”

“Yup,” Matthews said. “Good to know that being late runs in your friend group.” 

Maya didn’t know if she was supposed to be this tense or not. Was Matthews just joking around or was this some weird, passive-aggressive trap to get her and Zay comfortable enough before he told them to shut up? Not that he was the kind of teacher to ever be so explicitly rude, but chatty students had to be frustrating regardless of how patient of a teacher you were. 

She tries gauging Zay’s response to see if he was confused like her. But Zay was still smiling, now nodding eagerly. 

“Helpful info.” Zay pointed his pen at Maya. “So if both me and Maya aren’t in class yet, just know we’re late together. Isn’t that beautiful? The togetherness of friendship, the unity of — okay, I’m done now. Ready for you to continue, Mr. Matthews.” 

Matthews’s mouth twitched. He looked awfully fond. Maya didn’t know how she’d quickly come to recognize that look but before she could question it further, Matthews looked at her.

“I’m ready too.” And because Maya seemed to enjoy making an ass of herself, she saluted Matthews and added, “teach. Y’know, teach, like teacher but slang and — just interrupt me already.” 

“Thank you for the permission.” This time, Maya knew he was joking around, recognized his tone as playful, not scolding. It made her loose with relief. 

She let out a long exhale and traded a bashful smile with Zay. He mimed her salute, lips tightly pressed together like they always did when he held back a laugh.

Maya scrunched her nose. She would have made fun of him for his friendship spiel but at the front of the classroom, Matthews cleared his throat. He underlined the new due date with green chalk.

“You’re giving us an extra week?” Charlie sputtered out. 

“He always ends up extending his due dates,” Riley said. Several classmates hummed in agreement. 

“Not always,” Matthews said half-heartedly. 

“So I could hand it in, like, a week before exams, and you’d accept it?” 

At Maya’s question, Riley spun around in her seat. Her eyebrows shot up, eyes frantic and wide. “You won’t.”

“But I could. That’s what your dad’s saying, right? That’s what _you_ just said.”

“No, I said he ends up pushing his due dates, not dismissing them. Are you doing this on purpose?” 

“Doing what?”

“Egging me on! Trying to get the vein in my forehead to pop.” Riley’s forefinger tapped her forehead. It was hard enough that it must’ve hurt but Riley didn’t even blink.

“But it’s such a nice vein.”

“So _they_ get to have their disruptive conversation and we all have to listen to it,” Zay said, “but when _I_ do it …” 

“Yeah, guys, let’s wrap this up,” Matthews tried but Riley spoke over him.

“It is a nice vein so please don’t indirectly pop it.”

“I was joking about handing it in late, seriously, you and your vein can relax. We have a literal decade to finish it —”

“Just twelve days,” Matthews interrupted with a pained look. “You guys can have this conversation after class, we need to talk about setting presentation dates —”

Riley leaned closer. She hooked one arm around the back of her chair, the other extended out to Maya. Her pinky stuck out. “You promise you’ll hand it in on time?”

“I’m not touching your pinky again,” Maya said.

“ _Again_?” 

Maya ignored Zay. The tips of her ears turned pink as she added, “You don’t have to worry about me tanking your grade, okay? I know I’m not some honour’s list scholar or whatever, but I’ll do my part, hand it on time, show up to the presentation. All that jazz. You’ll get your shiny A+ even with me as a partner. I swear.”

“I’m not worried about _that_ ,” Riley argued. Maya truly had a gift; even when reassuring Riley that she’d do her part and be a decent history partner, Riley still got offended. It turned out that art wasn’t the only thing Maya was good at. “I just wanna make sure we’re on the same page. I don’t think you’ll tank our grade. Not at all.”

Riley’s gift, it seemed, was rendering Maya speechless. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know what the twinge in her chest was. She didn’t know why Riley’s tone was indignant but her words soft, eyes earnest, face so open it was painful to look at. 

Maya had to look away. When she did, she belatedly realized that she and Riley weren’t the only ones not paying attention. As her eyes roamed the classroom, past half the students on the phone, the other half chattering the period away, and Zay who had a conversation with Charlie from across the room, she winced at the sight of Matthews. His thermos hid his face as he took a sip, head leaned against the chalkboard and tilted towards their new due date. Monday, September 30th. Listed underneath were the rest of the days of the week, October 1st to October 4th.

“Did we do this?” Maya tried not to wince. “Are we why no one’s paying attention to your dad?”

Riley’s face pinched in confusion until she looked around as if, like Maya, she hadn’t noticed the state of the class until now. “Shit.”

Maya’s eyebrows raised. She fought back a smile. “Since when do you swear?”

“Since when do you care about disrupting class?”

“Excuse — oh, now _you’re_ egging me on.”

Over everyone’s conversations, the room drowning in shit-talking, laughter, and swears, Riley’s hushed giggle was the only thing Maya heard. Maya forgot what they were doing until Riley declared,

“I’ll fix it.” She sat straight in her seat again, her hands clasped on her desk. “Alright, Dad, we’re done. Sorry about that! You can continue now.”

Matthews set his thermos on his desk. “Thank you, hon.”

It made less than no sense that the rest of their classmates followed suit. Phones went tucked out of view, underneath binders, into backpacks. Students nudged and shushed each other into silence. Everyone sat straight with their attention on Matthews. The clock’s ticking became the only sound in the room. 

Maya was confused. But that felt normal around Riley.

Matthews beamed. “There we go. I know it’s first period and we’re smack dab in the middle of the week, but try not to, you know. Do that. You two,” he said as he pointed from Riley to Maya, “really like disrupting my class, huh?”

Riley scoffed.

“Hey man,” Maya said. “At least we’re not yelling at each other this time. Be grateful.”

“Yeah, dad,” Riley huffed. “And I got your class to focus back on you.”

Maya kicked the back leg of Riley’s seat. “Yeah, after distracting everyone in the first place.” 

“Whose side are you on!?” Riley grabbed the edge of her desk and kicked her foot back in Maya’s direction. 

Maya nearly swore. She moved her feet back, but not fast enough since Riley’s foot grazed hers. “ _Neither,_ ” she breathed out, lifting her legs up onto her seat. She hugged her knees to her chest. “You are so much more violent than you look.”

“In case you forgot, you also distracted everyone with —” 

“And you’re helping her distract everyone again,” Zay said. “Y’all are so repetitive.”

“Indeed.” Matthews cleared his throat. He knocked his fist against the chalkboard. “Can we resume, you guys? Loving that you’re kind of getting along, at least, I think you are? But let’s wait until after class please?”

Maya hooked her chin over her knees. “Sorry.”

“Oh, no, it’s okay, don’t —”

“You know, Mr. Matthews,” Yogi interrupted. “You get distracted even more than we do. Please focus. Can we get back to our new presentation dates?”

Matthews’s throat bobbed. He adjusted his tie, its neon orange glaringly bright against his black vest. “Er, yes, of course. My apologies.”

Finally, they got around to talking about the project. Matthews didn’t explain why he pushed the date, only that he wanted them to do their best and use full advantage of the extra week they had. Everyone had to submit their final copies of their project, their write-ups and references, on the same day, but slideshows and any other props used could be submitted the day their group presented. 

Maya’s rotten luck unsurprisingly landed her and Riley with the first presentation date — the very Monday when everyone’s work was due. Not only were they presenting on the first day but they were the first presentation too. 

Meanwhile, Zay’s excellent luck landed him, Charlie, and Yogi the last day of presentations and the last slot.

Not wanting to hijack the class again, Maya waited until students crowded around Matthews’ desk to ask him questions to bother Zay.

“If you care about me, you’ll trade spots with me. You’re a fucking genius. You don’t need the extra four days. But I’m so fucked, and would be a lot less fucked if you’d be really nice and give me your spot instead.”

“I am really nice, Maya.”

“No, I know what you’re doing, you’re gonna do something annoying instead —”

“So I will not give you my spot. You don’t need the extra days to get a good grade. _And_ you need to learn that you’re a genius too and going on the first day will prove to you that you are.”

Maya made a gagging sound.

“He’s right, you know.”

“Of course Matthews has something to say.” Maya looked ahead at Riley, a single eyebrow raised. “Well?” 

Riley sat tall, chin raised, eyes sharp and voice even sharper. “You heard me. Zay’s right. We're gonna kill this assignment and not because of an extra few days but because we’re smart. Creative. Driven. And we’re done most of it anyway and my dad’s a really easy grader.”

“Great pep talk.” Maya tried to keep her smile dry but her heart’s useless fluttering made it difficult. “You think _I’m_ smart?” 

Riley didn’t miss a beat. “Everyone’s smart.”

“Everyone includes me, so you’re openly calling me smart?” 

“How do you have the nerve to call _me_ annoying when you —”

“Did you hear that Zay? She thinks I’m smart.” 

Zay flicked his eyes between Maya’s shit-eating grin and Riley’s scoff. “You’re ridiculous. Now if you don’t mind me, I have work to do.” He pointedly uncapped his pen, flipped open to a new page on his notebook, and wrote on it. Maya peered over and found him drawing squiggles. She graciously didn’t call him out on it. “You also have work to do, so maybe take a break from doing whatever _that_ is and get some work done. You’re both smart, but god, you guys talk a lot.”

Riley brightened with a smile. “Coming from you, that compliment’s even nicer. Thanks, Zay!” 

“‘Course, sugar.”

“I guess we can follow your wise advice.” Maya tipped her head at Charlie and Yogi in the back row of the class. Yogi sat in front of Charlie’s desk while Charlie grabbed an empty chair from the row above his, presumably for Zay. “Long as you follow yours.”

“Aye, thanks for the chair, Charlie!” Zay called out as he leapt from his seat to join them.

“So,” Riley said, recapturing Maya’s attention. “Did my pep talk do the trick?”

“Yes.”

“Are you being sarcastic?”

“No.”

“That doesn’t help.”

Maya silently berated herself for what she was about to do and did it anyway. “Pinky promise.” She raised her pinky.

Riley nodded solemnly. She didn’t wrap her pinky around Maya’s, just tapped their fingers together, but Maya’s skin felt the imprint of hers all the same. “Let’s meet next Friday after school instead?”

“Did your appointment get moved?

“You remembered that? Uh, but, no, it didn’t get cancelled, I just — I meant, since, you know. We have an extra week now. We really don’t have to do much together if we do most of it at home and put it all together right before we present. That way, we only really have to meet outside of class once. We’ll meet next Friday, present that Monday, get our As, and you’ll be free of me before you know it.”

Maya’s throat dried. She forced a nod, idly twisting the loose rings of her notebook. “Yeah, well. Still sitting behind you for the rest of the semester. How free can I really be?” 

It was a weak crack. Riley stuck her tongue out anyway.

.

.

.

Maya always knew she had a limited knowledge of football but it wasn’t until now that she realized just how _little_ she knew.

The entire ride in Lucas’ Jeep after school consisted entirely of football talk. Prior to this past week, Maya had never heard Lucas talk about football outside of references to Zay’s spot as school’s wide receiver. A term Maya only knew because of Zay. She figured she would have to learn one new term for Lucas because she only knew the one plus _quarterback_ but it turned out —

“Hold on,” Maya cut in upon hearing the only other football term she recognized. She clutched the back of Zay’s headrest and used it to lean as close as she could from the backseat. “It’s senior year, your first year on our school’s team, and you’re the fucking quarterback? How is that possible?”

Zay’s face lifted into a grin. He lowered the radio’s volume, quieting the upbeat pop song, and clapped Lucas’ shoulder. “Tell her, man.”

Lucas kept his eyes firmly on the road. He schooled his features into a blank expression but his mouth gave a small twitch. “Dave would’ve been quarterback if he hadn’t broken his leg last week. It’s just good luck my way.”

Maya stopped herself from kicking the back of his seat. She settled on flicking the side of his forehead, ignoring his scowl and huff of _I’m driving!_ “Shut up,” she said. “Don’t say that.”

Lucas glanced at her from his rearview mirror. His mouth set in a hard line. “Don’t say _what?_ You asked a question! I answered.”

“What she means is don’t dismiss this accomplishment, you idiot.” Zay ruffled Lucas’ hair. He spoke over Lucas’ whine of _do you guys want us to crash?_ “You’ve got a skill you worked hard to get. Own it. Take pride in it.”

Lucas softened. With the wind in his hair, the side of his face bathed in the afternoon sunlight streaming in from his opened window, and his face tinged pink, for the second time that day Maya’s fingers ached to draw. She’d drawn Lucas and Zay before. Not that either knew it nor did she do it much. The terrible combination of fear and shame would more often than not squash the urge to draw them, along with Katy, whenever that urge came up. Fear that it was creepy. Shame that it was an embarrassing thing to do. A week of taking Visual Arts didn’t suddenly fix all of that. But maybe a semester of it could. Maybe it was already starting to.

“Zay is very proud of you,” she said firmly.

Zay nodded. “Maya is also very proud of you.”

“So be proud of yourself too, dipshit.”

Lucas’ laughter filled the car, making the air between lighter than it had already been. He slowed to a red light. One hand rested against the wheel, the other out his window as his head turned to face it. She suspected that he just did it to hide his face. “You’re both ridiculous,” he said, openly fond. “Thank you.”

“Shut up,” Maya and Zay said. 

“I was just _thanking_ —”

“You don’t have to.” Maya scooted back until her shoulders touched the backseat. Her head bowed down. She lifted her backpack from the car-floor, playing with its straps. “So don’t.”

An old Rihanna song played faintly from the radio. Silence crept in between the three. The light turned green. Lucas drove forward and within seconds, Topanga’s came into view.

When Lucas made the left into Topanga’s parking lot, he said, “Tell me you’ll come to our first game next Friday?”

“Hell yeah, you’ve gotta be there.” Zay sounded so giddy that Maya couldn’t stop herself from smiling. “Me and Luke’s first game together. It’ll be one for the books.”

Maya had attended Abigail Adams’ football games before. A handful of occasions spread out over the past two years, all with Lucas, all for Zay. With so many of Zay’s friends on the team, the cheerleading squad, and in the bleachers, she never found it necessary to attend all of his football games. Plus, Zay played on nearly every one of the school’s sports teams. He always had games every other week for nearly the entire school year. He didn’t expect her to attend all of his games.

Did Lucas? 

This was his first and last sports season in high school. Jo’s schedule at the vet clinic was hectic so Maya doubted Jo would be able to make all their home games. And sure, Maya hadn’t known Lucas cared about football, at all, until this week. But from the forcibly stilted way he’d mentioned that it was something he did with his dad back in Texas, there must have been bad memories associated with it. Baggage he’d spent the past years trying to abandon. Baggage he was now unpacking, all this time later. While football had to be an overwhelmingly good thing for him or else he wouldn’t have joined the team, Maya couldn’t help but linger on how daunting it must have been to pick it back up now. 

Lucas had probably talked to death about it with Zay and Jo. Or maybe it wasn’t a big deal to him. Still, Maya couldn’t give him advice. She couldn’t comfort him about whatever issues he had with his folks. She couldn’t even talk football with him.

But she could show up for him. It wasn’t enough but it wasn’t nothing either.

“What time’s the game?”

“Six-thirty,” Lucas answered. He parked into the only empty spot in front of Topanga’s, forehead puckered in concentration.

Zay whirled around. Both hands gripped the back of his armrest as he beamed at Maya. “So? You’re coming?”

Maya’s dumb heart squeezed. “Of course.”

.

.

.

Yes, it was stupid for Maya to continuously get surprised at the sight of Riley in Topanga’s. 

Yes, Maya kept getting surprised anyway.

Yes, Maya knew she was an idiot.

Maya stood in line, her hands tucked in the back-pockets of her jeans. Two patrons stood ahead of her. A junior she vaguely recognized from Abigail Adams rattled off her order at the front. Behind her, ahead of Maya, was a young mother, combing her fingers through the wailing toddler she held up in her arms.

“Just a few more minutes, love,” the mom pleaded, her panicked smile sounding in her voice. She tucked her daughter’s face into the crook of her shoulder and began to rub up and down her back. “And then we’ll be home, you’ll have your cookie, and —”

Maya averted her eyes away from the mother and stared down her feet as she bounced up and down on them. In a place like Topanga’s, she doubted anyone would have the nerve to complain about a child sobbing to a mom clearly doing her best and who would be out as soon as she got her order, but the mom had to feel embarrassed regardless. 

Maya couldn’t bear to listen to more, discomfort clogging her throat. The frustration of wanting to help but being unable to felt like a deep itch she couldn’t reach. But there was no point in leaving. Lucas was in the washroom. Zay was out in the parking lot, taking a call from his mom. And now that it was the mother’s turn to order, it would only be a few more minutes until Maya ‘ordered’ — that consisted of awkwardly telling the barista her name, that Topanga herself granted Maya free iced coffee for life, and could she please have one?

This prompted her to shift onto her tiptoes, to see above the young mom in front of her, to see her barista for today, and —

Again, that hot splash of confusion. In her defence, she wasn’t used to this. The sight of Riley behind Topanga’s front counter, hair pulled back into a bun, a single wisp out of place on the side of her cheek, purple apron on, and a name-tag — that was still new. Not like sitting behind Riley in history class. Close enough she could always get a waft of Riley’s perfume. (She _had_ to wear perfume. No one naturally smelled all clean and fruity, especially after cheerleading practice.) Only a handful of weeks, but long enough that Maya could probably draw the back of Riley’s head from memory. How her ponytail hung high in the air. What her red and white cheerleading skirt looked like, crumpled from how often Riley played with it during class.

It was startling, then, to think about how familiar this was all becoming.

“Hi, what can I get you?” Riley chirped. Her face slipped as the young girl’s crying persisted, her tiny fists waving in the air. “Aw no. Can I get her some juice? We have these reusable sippy cups with birds all over ‘em that all the little ones usually fawn over.”

“Considering she threw ours out the window back in the car, maybe not. Don’t wanna end up with your cups smashed to bits but thank you for the offer.” 

The woman recited her order over her daughter’s cries that worsened by the second. Riley read her the cost, waiting patiently as the woman fumbled with the change in her wallet.

“Shit. I’m short fifty cents. I can’t _believe_ this is happening.”

“Miss, it’s really not a problem —”

“No, it is because you shouldn’t have to make exceptions for me. This is embarrassing, I’m so sorry, I’ll just —”

Maya’s heart sank. She rooted around her pockets for spare change. She looked at the toddler and her throat tightened as the toddler looked back. The girl couldn’t have been older than two. Her short brown hair was tied up in neat pigtails, her eyes red, cheeks streaked with tears. Looking at her hurt.

“Miss, really,” Riley interjected, equal parts firm and gentle. “It’s not embarrassing. It’s not anything to be ashamed of. And it’s also not a big deal, okay? God, I hope that doesn’t come off as, like, dismissive, but really! It happens. It’s fine.”

“But —” The woman hiccuped. “Wouldn’t your boss be mad?” 

Riley’s smile was small. A tiny curve of her mouth that lit up her entire face. “My boss is my mom. She’d be mad if I didn’t give you what you basically can pay for, so. I guess that gives you incentive to take your order anyway? Y’know, so my mom doesn’t ground me or something.”

This tore out a wet and weak snort of laughter from the woman. “Wouldn’t want you to get in trouble. Thank you. Not only for this but because I think the sound of your voice calmed my daughter down.”

It did. Maya had — in the least creepy way possible, promise — watched the daughter’s face throughout their conversation, mostly to avoid meeting Riley’s eyes and to remain unnoticed. She’d seen how the girl had gradually quieted. Her cheeks were still puffy and slick with tears, but her hands had unclenched. They now rested in her mother’s hair. Not pulling, not petting, not even moving, but still, framing either side of her head.

“Wanna say thank you, Nance? Please say thank you?”

“Thank you!” 

At the sound of the toddler’s voice, Riley melted. “No, thank _you_. You are such a lovely girl.”

The mom bounced her daughter up before she pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Isn’t she?” Just like that, all the panic in this woman’s voice bled out. She sounded light and joyous. She thanked Riley once more and proceeded to shuffle down to the other side of the front counter where patrons waited for their orders.

Maya felt exposed. Even though _she_ was the one who had seen Riley out of school and witnessed her talking to a customer. There was no reason for her feet to start taking her back to her seat. Or for her to falter as Riley said, “Next customer, please.” And especially not for her to forget how to speak when Riley called out her name.

“Hey!” Riley looked as shocked to see Maya as Maya had been to see her. She pushed her hair out of her face, smoothed down her apron. “How are you?” 

Again, Maya already knew she was an idiot. But it seemed like she felt the need to prove it to herself, responding with, “I saw all of that.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. It was ... cool. Really cool.”

“You sound surprised. What, did you think I’d turn her away?” 

“What? No, that’s not — I mean, I _am_ surprised. But at myself. Wow. I thought _you_ were some heartless, judgemental bitch.”

Riley’s eyebrows wrinkled. “And?”

“And you’re clearly not. I’m worse at reading people than I thought.”

“Maybe you’re not bad. First impressions can be misleading.”

“Spare me the details of you thinking I was a cold and apathetic asshole.”

“I didn’t think that.”

Maya snorted. “Bullshit.”

“I thought you were _being_ cold and apathetic but I didn’t think that’s who you were.”

“Then?”

“Then what?”

_Then who did you think I was?_

But the words got trapped in Maya’s throat. Besides, it couldn’t made a difference. Riley had already essentially admitted to not outright disliking Maya after their argument in class. (That was ridiculous. _Maya_ would have loathed someone else for saying to her what she said to Riley. It hadn’t even been two weeks yet but even thinking about that incident and her harsh words to both Riley and Matthews made her cringe.)

She couldn’t ask for more. She wouldn’t. 

“Then would you do me the honour of a large-sized iced coffee?” Maya slid a creased five-dollar-bill over the counter. Riley slapped her hand away. “ _Hey_!” 

“Hey yourself! Quit trynna pay. Mom told me you tried to pay for it yesterday too. You wanna waste a lifetime of free drinks?”

“Why are you _yelling_ at me? Aren’t you not allowed to yell at customers?”

Riley rolled her eyes, ponytail flopping as she shook her head. “What’s my mom gonna do, _fire_ me? And besides, you’re not really a customer.”

Maya attempted to stifle a smile. She wasn’t successful. “Oh?” She took an instinctive step forward, as close as she could get with the counter in between them. This distance between them was the same as it was in class. She realized this because the almost pleasant smell of Riley’s perfume only now reached her, overriding the aroma of fresh pastries and coffee that overwhelmed the cafe. Her fingers drummed against the marble countertop. Something strange and akin to giddiness flowed through her. “Then what am I?”

“You’re ... you,” Riley said purposefully. Like it meant something. Like it mattered. “What else do you need to know?”

Maya didn’t know what to say to that. Luckily, Lucas sidled up to her at that exact moment. He patted her shoulder, his hand a familiar weight as it briefly rested on her.

“Your hand’s still wet,” she told him. 

“So’s your shoulder.”

She took his hand off the wet spot on her shoulder. Lifted it away from her. Pushed it onto his shoulder instead. “Now yours is too.”

He nudged her. She almost nudged him back until she spotted Riley’s apron in the corner of her eye.

“I’ll, uh, have that iced coffee thanks, and whatever this dork wants, assuming my five covers it.”

“See?” Riley said. “I was right. You’re not cold or apathetic. Not at all.”

Maya's five-dollar-bill fell from her hands. She cursed under her breath and bent to pick it up. As she stood back to full height, the only thing she could hear over the violent hammering in her chest was Lucas.

“ _What_ did I miss? I was in the washroom for, like, five minutes.”

.

.

.

Not much had changed. 

Maya pushed herself into both going to school on time and sticking it through the day. She didn’t allow herself to skip her classes anymore either. It was easier than she thought, now that history wasn’t too boring and she liked art. 

Phys-ed didn’t force her into a seat and to pay attention to information she would forget as soon as class ended so she automatically liked it. Their teacher went through sports as units. While they were currently playing volleyball, Maya’s forearms nearly bruised and tender when she applied pressure, every Friday was a free day. Everyone could play what they wanted. Maya’s only two friends were boys so regardless of who was in her class, there wouldn’t have been a girl she could’ve played with. She didn’t really like Friday classes. Running on the treadmill, being the only one in the weight room attached to the gymnasium, would be embarrassing. If Maya cared about any of that.

She tried to actually do her homework. It had only been two weeks since she decided to maybe care about where she was headed. None of her teachers had graded anything yet so who knew if she was actually making progress. She knew for sure that English would screw her over. Already, she’d fallen behind on their class-reading of ‘Brave New World’. The three times she’d try to read it at home, she ended up asleep, face-first into her book. They’d written one quiz for the novel and submitted a paragraph just for their teacher to get a grasp on where everyone stood in the class. Maya knew already that she’d flunked both and that she would flunk the rest of the semester too. With all the extra care she’d already been forcing out of her for school, she couldn’t bring herself to worry about English yet. That was a future Maya problem.

Outside of her, Lucas and Zay now both had football practice three times a week, alternating between mornings and after school. Lucas could only give her rides once a week. Between his part-time job at a local grocery store near his apartment and his practices, she saw much less of him. 

Somehow though, she saw more of Zay. He stuck around Topanga’s later, long after Lucas left for dinner. Maya always stayed with him. Gorging on muffins and sipping tea with Zay at a window-seat table, their table full of homework that would never get finished, as the sky bled from pink to black outside — that was perfect. She started to actually look forward to dinner now that they were spent with Zay.

Aside from that, Maya was still … Maya. She didn’t see much of her mom all week, doodled in class instead of paying attention, drank more iced coffee than humanly possible, made cowboy jokes at Lucas before trading kisses in the back of his car, listened to the drama Zay shared about his teammates on his football team and the cheerleaders.

Life was the same. _She_ was the same. Despite this, Maya could sense it. That even though not much had changed, something was about to.

.

.

.

“I feel like I spend so much of my time here. It haunts me in my dreams.”

Matthews furrowed his eyebrows. He leaned back in his seat, balancing himself by leaning it against the chalkboard. His feet hung above his desk mid-air. “Should I be offended?”

“Absolutely not. The room’s haunting me, not you.” Maya hooked her thumb in the hole in her pants, right above her knee. She did her best not to keep checking the door but it was difficult. Students kept walking past, not even into the room, but the flashes of movement still caught her eye. “What does your kid have last period?”

“Oh, are you meeting Riley?”

“For your assignment. That’s all. We — okay, _she_ wanted to, like. Go through everything together, make sure we’re prepared for our presentation on Monday.”

“How you feeling about it? Prepared, excited, confident?”

“No.”

“ _I’m_ excited.”

“Of course you are. You’re like a mad scientist waiting to see if your experiment worked. Putting me and your daughter together was your experiment and you get your results on Monday.”

“Well, this mad scientist is feeling pretty good about it. You two are getting along.”

Maya stiffened. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her denim jean jacket and stifled a scoff. “We’re still disrupting your class with our dumb arguments.”

“You’re _definitely_ still disruptive but you’re not really arguing. Or at least, it’s different now.”

“Thanks for, uh, looking over some of my work, by the way. I forgot to say that.” She said it, half to avoid the topic of Riley, and half to genuinely thank him. She’d come in on Wednesday after school, just two days ago. Lucas and Zay had practice so she figured that she got a lot of work done the other time she’d taken Matthews up on his offer, so why not do it again? A few students were spread around the class, Charlie included. It seemed like he came every Wednesday and Friday; he’d nodded in greeting when he saw Maya. 

Half an hour later, Matthews checked up on everyone. He offered to look over what she had done when he reached Maya. Maya didn’t want to be humiliated but she hated the idea of Riley criticizing her work instead and their grade suffering for it, so she accepted. He gave her edits and feedback. Things she should fix up yes, mostly grammar, but also things she did well on. She had been so flustered with his nice words that she forgot to thank him.

“There’s really no need to thank me, Maya. It’s what I do,” Matthews said. Maya was shocked by how one guy could be _this_ sincere, all the time. She couldn’t tell if Matthews was rare like that or if a lot more teachers were like him had she given them the same chance she’d given Matthews. 

“Yeah, but —” She glanced around and ensured that no students were in the room. “You do a good job, you know? I just. Don’t think I would’ve been such an asshole to you when I was the dumb one late that other week if I’d given you a shot. I should’ve given you a shot.” She stared at the floor, kicking at a dust-covered eraser by her feet. 

“Maya, it’s really al — Riley?”

Maya’s head jerked up towards the doorway where Riley stood. Riley wasn’t in her cheerleading uniform today. Her baby pink crop-top revealed a single strip of her stomach. She twisted her fingers around the drawstrings of her sweatpants. “Hi, Dad,” she said in a small voice. “Hi, Maya.”

Maya didn’t ask if Riley had heard their conversation. She didn’t need to.

Maya cleared her throat. She stopped slouching. Stood taller. Jerked her head to the very back row of seats. “Ready to kick this assignment’s ass?”

Riley stared pointedly at her father. “So she gets to swear but I can’t?”

“Not in front of your younger brother, no.”

“He’s _twelve._ He says worse things than I do.”

“Wait, what?”

“Matthews.” Maya flushed as both Riley and Matthews looked at her. “I meant the smaller one. Riley? Let’s ignore your dad please?”

Matthews grunted a displeased noise.

But Riley smiled, a determined glint in her eyes. She finally headed towards the back of the classroom. Maya followed suit. “Can we start by editing the slides? I worked on it last night and it’s kind of, sort of, forty-four slides now.”

Maya paused halfway down the aisle towards where Riley sat. “Forty-four? You’re joking.”

“I don’t joke about PowerPoints.”

“You’re actually not joking. You’re gonna have me look through all those slides with you and cut it down and edit _both_ of our pieces and go over how we’re gonna present on Monday all in, what, the next hour and a half?”

“Yup. It’s enough time. Trust me.”

“Sure. Okay. Fine.” Maya plopped into the seat next to Riley. “Three more days and you’ll be done with me. Ready?”

“Ready.” Riley pulled her laptop out of her backpack, Maya pulled out her history notes, and they got to work.

.

.

.

A little over an hour later, Maya leaned over to Riley’s desk and closed her laptop screen. “I can’t look at those slides for any longer. I _can’t._ I refuse to look at them on Monday. You’ll have to click the slides, okay, and I’ll point vaguely and just — please, don’t make me look at it again.”

Riley rubbed her hands down her face, her laugh muffled. “You said please.”

“See how desperate I am?” Maya took a swig of her water bottle, her throat dry and limbs heavy with exhaustion, but there were only a few drops left. “I don’t believe it. We’re ... done? And we _didn’t_ kill each other?”

“Probably ‘cause we did nearly all of it on our own. We didn’t spend that much time together.”

“I’m still impressed by us. Nice work on not killing me.” Maya raised her hand.

Riley whooped as she high-fived Maya back.

“Gotta get some more water.” Maya tapped her empty water bottle and stood. An ache shot down her legs, everything stiff and tight. She’d been sitting for so long, all from fourth-period English to now, over four hours of it. Her body wasn’t amused, begging for some sleep. She dreaded the subway ride home.

Riley promptly stood up too. “Gotta pee. I can fill your water bottle up.”

“What? Why?”

“What do you mean why? It’d save you a trip.”

“So?”

“ _So what?_ ”

“You’d have to, like, bring it into the washroom. That’s not sanitary.”

“You’re not sanitary.” Riley’s face wrinkled with a yawn. She looked annoyed at herself for it. 

Maya smiled despite herself. “Thank you. Let’s go then. Washroom’s right by the water fountain.”

As they walked out of the classroom, throwing a quick “Bye dad!” and “Bye Matthews”, Maya found herself sucking in a deep breath. The silence in the hallway was disconcertingly loud, Riley unusually silent. 

After they rounded the corner of the hall, Maya gathered up what bits of courage she had and asked, “You tired? Working on the assignment took a lot outta me too.”

Riley’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, pointing out the dark bags underneath them instead. “I guess I’m tired, yeah. We have the first football game today, so that’s a lot.”

“But it’s good right?” Maya trailed her fingers over her sleeves, fingers instinctively running over the dried patches of paint she’d accumulated over the course of years on her denim that never came out. “I mean, you love cheerleading. Don’t you?”

“Yeah! Of course. But I haven’t been sleeping well, and well, you know. Just tired.”

“Not sleeping well?”

“Does any teenager?”

Maya laughed. She tucked her water bottle in between her elbow and chest. “Guess not, no. Well, if it means anything to you, I’m actually going to the game tonight.”

“That’s right! Lucas joined the team. Are you excited?”

“I’m excited for him and Zay, I guess. They’re happy to be playing together. They’re, uh, really good friends.”

“I know. You’re really good friends with them too, right?”

“Well, really good is subjective, they’re much closer to each other than I —” 

A violent thud reverberated throughout the hallway. The distinct noise of a body slammed against the locker. 

Riley flinched. She held a hand over her heart, frantically looking around. “What was that?” She marched forward like she was about to take the left into the wall of lockers where the noise came from.

Maya clasped Riley’s wrist, pulling her back. “Wait here. I’ll check it out.”

“Maya, no.”

“It’s fine. It’s probably just two idiots arguing okay?” Maya blanched as another thud pierced the air, followed by muffled shouts and curses. A few boys. Three by the sound of it. “I’ll take care of it.”

“What? _No._ ” Riley yanked her wrist out of Maya’s grasp. She held Maya by the shoulders, keeping her rooted to the floor. Her fingers squeezed, gentle but hard enough that Maya went pliant. “I’ll get my dad.”

“No way. That’ll make things worse. C’mon, it’s not that big of a deal, okay? I’ll get ‘em to knock it off. Give me one minute. You just go to the washroom and by the time you’re back, I’ll be done with it. Just trust me.” Maya pried herself out of Riley’s hands. She didn’t let herself look at the wild panic in Riley’s eyes for longer than a millisecond, forcing herself to turn into the side of the hallway where the noise came from. She stopped in her trail as soon as she saw it: three boys arguing, one of them pinned against a locker. 

Her heart dropped.

She gave herself a half-second to stand there and react. Half a second for her heartbeat to race, her hands to shake, and all the air in her lungs to shrink. Half a second before she snapped, “What the _fuck_ are you doing?” and bounded towards the set of lockers that Lucas had a classmate in their year held up against. Said classmate snarled threats, kicking aimlessly at Lucas.

“Now will you fucking leave it alone?” From behind Lucas, Zay continuously tried to pull Lucas away from his shoulder but Lucas didn’t budge. 

“That’s right, you pussy, listen to your boyfriend you fucking _freak_ —”

“You shut the hell up,” Zay seethed. “No one’s talking to you.”

Lucas tightened his grip on the boy. “You can’t treat people like that, Oliver.”

Oliver laughed mirthlessly. He shoved his way out of Lucas’ grip and pushed Lucas in the chest. “You’re one to talk. I say one thing you don’t like and you think assaulting me is the way to go?”

“I didn’t assault you, it was just a push, you get injuries on the field worse than that —”

“ _Lucas_.” Maya elbowed Oliver out of her way. She tilted Lucas’ chin up, forcing him to look at her. “What is this?”

“He was being an asshole!”

“So are you! You have your first game today. You really think your coach is gonna let you play after finding out you fought your teammate?”

Lucas’ jaw tightened. His skin burned hot, eyes narrow slits as he glared at Oliver. “You didn’t hear what this piece of shit was saying. To Zay. To me. About _you_.”

“Who cares? He doesn’t know any of us.”

Oliver laughed again. He stood uncomfortably close to Maya, right behind her. She could feel his breath on the side of her head. She elbowed him again. “I know your boyfriend pretty well, maybe even better than you,” he taunted. “Coach shouldn’t have let a psychopath like him in the team.”

“Fuck off,” Zay spat. His eyes flashed. Fists raised, he stormed towards Oliver. Maya wedged herself in between them, pressing her hand against Zay’s chest to keep him still. “You’re just bitter you weren’t Dave’s replacement as quarterback. Lucas has nothing to do with how mediocre of a player you are. Don’t talk about shit you know nothing about.”

“I know plenty about what this piece of shit did to his dad. How the fuck do you condone that, Zay?”

Maya’s blood ran cold. “What’s he talking about?”

“Don’t listen to him,” Zay said. “He’s trying to rile you up.”

But Lucas kept quiet. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, glancing side-to-side.

“Aw, Lucas,” Oliver said, pushing at the collar of Lucas’ shirt. “I’m sure your girlfriend doesn’t care. Her standards can’t possibly get lower than they already are.”

“You fucking watch it —”

“Lucas,” Maya said firmly. “Knock it off. _Leave it alone._ You can’t get thrown off the team after only a week. Listen to Zay. Listen to me. He’s not worth it.”

Oliver bristled. He tugged harshly on Maya’s hand, fingers ice-cold. “You fuck right off —”

A second later, when Oliver sailed onto the floor with a deafening crack, drops of red splattered from his nose, Maya stared at her own hand. Why didn’t her hand hurt? How could she hit him and not feel a single thing? 

Then she got it: she didn’t punch Oliver.

“Luke, _don’t,_ ” Zay shouted but Lucas went in for the second hit anyway.

Maya leapt forward to separate Lucas and Oliver but Zay grabbed her by the waist and held her back. “Zay, quit it! Let go.”

“Are you crazy? No, you can’t get hurt either. This is Lucas’ mistake to make.” 

Lucas and Oliver moved so quickly, blows coming one after the other with flashes of red, that Maya couldn’t discern what was happening. “You have to stop,” she cried out, reluctantly letting Zay drag her back a safe distance away from them. “Are you listening? I’ll _never_ speak to you again if you keep going. You’ll lose me and football and maybe even your entire school year when you get expelled —”

“Whoa, what’s going on?” 

Maya could’ve sobbed with relief. Matthews sprinted down the hall towards them. Lucas dropped his hands instantly. Oliver lifted his fist but when Matthews called out “Don’t”, he dropped it.

“Everyone into the office,” Matthews barked. “ _Now_.”

Maya couldn’t bring herself to look at Lucas. She side-stepped past the boys and avoided staring at the drops of blood on the floor. Her arms folded around herself while she stomped towards the office down on the first floor.

She found Riley waiting outside the front doors of the office. Riley was biting her lip, gaze flicked up to the ceiling, fingers clenching in and out of fists. 

“You called your dad?”

Riley startled at Maya’s voice. “Don’t be mad.”

Maya strolled up to Riley and jabbed her finger into Riley’s shoulder. “Are you kidding me? If Lucas gets expelled, it’ll be your fault.”

“Then give me the same credit for Lucas not breaking any bones, his and Oliver’s. I did the right thing.”

“No, you did the stupid thing. You’re so naive for getting a teacher involved.”

“He’s not any teacher. He’s my dad, and you trust him too!”

“ _Not_ with Lucas.”

Riley’s chin wobbled. She took a step back. “I stand by what I did. If Oliver started the fight then Lucas has nothing to worry about.”

Footsteps sounded from behind Maya. “Zay, you don’t have to explain anything to me. Principal Helmer will sort this out,” Matthews was saying.

Maya tensed, body turning even more rigid. She considered what would happen if she turned around and just. Decked Oliver. Yelled at Lucas. Asked Riley why she didn’t trust Maya enough to handle it. It wasn’t her own restraint that stopped her from doing any of it. She was just too tired. 

“Have fun at the game. See you Monday, partner.” Maya sent Riley a placid smile, willed her eyes to dry, and stepped into the office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... whoops?
> 
> not much to say but here's my official reassurance that this is not some send-off for lucas nor is it to make him look like a bad guy. lucaya friendship for life.
> 
> thank you all for your kind comments!! they mean the world to me. i really hope y'all like this chapter. things Are Happening and i'm so excited. 
> 
> if there's any consolation re: the state of rilaya rn, next chapter is entirely of them so? cheers!!! much love to y'all.


	9. Chapter 9

In the end, Lucas received one day’s worth of suspension. Oliver got three. Principal Helmer talked to Maya, Lucas, Oliver, Zay, and Matthews, all separately. It took nearly an hour.

Helmer let them all go with a stern reminder that, “Violence is not good, kids.” Matthews left the office first. Then Oliver, cursing but avoiding looking at any of them, an ice-pack held to his bruised face. 

Maya waited until she, Lucas, and Zay were in the school’s front foyer to snap. “What the fuck was that?” 

Lucas’ bruised eye pulsed, the darkened red of his injury bright against his skin. “You saw what happened. Maya, I’m sorry, okay, but let’s talk later, the game’s in an hour, and —”

“It’s bullshit that you and Oliver are both still playing tonight’s game.” The idea of sitting by herself in the overstuffed bleachers, the school orchestra blaring their school song, having to cheer for the same team that housed that dick Oliver, and be there for Lucas the way he wasn’t here for neither Maya nor Zay today — it repulsed her. 

She went on her tiptoes and yanked Lucas by the collar of his shirt. “It’s bullshit that I asked you to stop and you didn’t. That Zay was screaming at you to stop and you didn’t. That I’m here, asking you to explain what that was and you won’t. Don’t give me any of this _he was talking shit_ crap and tell me what Oliver actually fucking said.”

“Maya.” Zay touched her shoulder. She tensed, but the sound of his soft voice over her shoulder soothed her instantly. “Drop it.”

“Why should I? You could’ve gotten hurt. Both of you could’ve broken a bone or your ribs or done something even worse that you couldn’t take back. I’m not dropping it. Tell me what Oliver said. Lucas, that shit about your dad —”

Lucas’ face crumbled. “ _Don’t_.”

She cupped the back of his head. Her thumb smoothed through his hair. “You know that doesn’t matter to me. I’m not asking about that but I’m asking what Oliver did to make you act like that. Do you know how scary it was, to see you like that?”

He looked like she’d punched him in the gut. “You’re scared of me? This isn’t my first fight. I don’t get what’s different.”

“You guys,” Zay said quietly. “C’mon. Both of you just forgive each other and move —”

Maya let out an empty, shocked laugh. “What does he have to forgive me for? I didn’t call a teacher. I didn’t do anything but try and stop it. Unless you think that I’m, that I’m what? Being unfair for wanting to know why Lucas was ready to throw away _everything_ over one prick?”

Lucas scowled. “You don’t understand.”

“Then make me understand!” She hadn’t hit anyone or been hit but her body couldn’t discern the difference. Her skin felt sensitive all over. Like one small thing could finish her off. 

Lucas’ lower lip quivered. He cradled her jaw, calloused thumbs against her so familiar she found herself leaning into his touch. Until he said: “Maya, just trust that I’m doing the right thing. You’d hate me otherwise. Trust me, okay? Please.”

She sucked in a sharp breath. It was difficult to see Lucas through the tears that clouded her eyes. But she refused to blink in fear of a drop rolling down her cheek. She stepped back until Zay approached Lucas’ side. He looked as sullen as Lucas. Maya wanted to feel bad but betrayal overrode everything, making it hard to breathe without panting. 

“I can’t,” she wheezed out. She couldn’t stomach the looks on their faces. Another second and she’d throw up by their feet. “I just can’t. Have a good game. I can’t stick around for it.” She turned around, put one foot in front of the other until it got her out of the school’s front door, and didn’t look back.

Once she was outside, she remembered that she left her back up in the history room. “Fuck.” She turned back, ready to sprint up to the history classroom, praying that Matthews hadn’t left and locked his classroom already.

But right next to the doorway, slumped against the wall, was her backpack. She gingerly inspected it. It took her a minute to rifle through her things and confirm that everything was there. Nothing had been stolen or touched. 

She might’ve spent all day staring at her backpack, thinking about how it got from the history classroom to down here. But she was too fucking sick of this place to stomach another second here. 

Backpack slung over her back, she walked out of Abigail Adams and began her trek back to her apartment.

.

.

.

Later that night, her phone buzzed. The texts came within fifteen minutes of each other from two different and private chats.

[Fuckboy Friar]: Maya Im sorry  
[Fuckboy Friar]: I shouldve listened to you and it wont happen again  
[Fuckboy Friar]: But I swear the dumb shit Oliver was saying has nothing to do with the fight it doesnt matter okay it really doesnt

[Zay]: We won the game   
[Zay]: are you mad at me too?

To Zay, she wrote back:

[Maya]: congratz on winning   
[Maya]: celebratory drinks at topanga’s next week?

[Zay]: You’re not mad at me?

[Maya]: you’re just trying 2 be a good friend to lucas   
[Maya]: i get it  
[Maya]: but i don’t know how i feel about him now so if you could just tell him i need more time  
[Maya]: i mean i’m assuming he’s over your shoulder reading these texts with you right?

[Zay]: Yeah sorry about that

.

.

.

Sunday night came far too quickly for her liking.

She hadn’t touched any of her schoolwork yet. She was too bogged down from Friday, holed up in her room, away from Katy, the rest of her apartment, the rest of the world. But now, a little past nine that Sunday night, she had to face the rest of the week.

Namely tomorrow’s history presentation.

So she opened her backpack for the first time in two days. She pulled out her history notebook and binder. A folded-up piece of lined paper fell out and onto the floor by her bare feet.

Fifteen seconds were spent trying to toss it into the air with her foot so she wouldn’t have to bend and get it. But that only achieved in accidentally kicking the paper underneath her bed.

She contemplated just. Leaving it there. But organization skills had to be a tenet of success in school, right? She’d been a slob all through high school. It couldn’t hurt to change that.

With her back against her carpeted floor, she stuck her arm underneath her bed and groped around blindly. It took several seconds to grab a hold of the slip of paper. When she brought her hand back, her fingers were coated in dust. But she didn’t care.

Not since the side of the slip facing hers read: MAYA PLEASE OPEN. The letters were neat and loopy, the kind of handwriting Maya always wanted but her messy scrawl never allowed.

Lucas and Zay both had terrible handwriting. This could only be from one person.

She sat on her bed. Her forefinger stroked over the lettering over her name. “Just open it,” she told herself. “It’s only a piece of paper.” 

Heart lodged in her throat, she unfolded it. In the same handwriting, these letters larger and scribbled faster, she read:

HI LET ME EXPLAIN MYSELF PLEASE I THINK YOU’LL UNDERSTAND IF YOU HEAR IT FROM ME

TEXT ME? - RILEY MATTHEWS

Below that must have been Riley’s phone number.

The paper dropped from her hands. She jumped off her bed and grabbed her phone from her nightstand. When she went back to retrieve the paper, her other hand was already unlocking her phone. She copied Riley’s number into her phone. Hit dial. Put the call on speaker.

She did this all quickly so her mind wouldn’t understand what she was doing until it was already done. But as her phone rang and she paced around her room, suddenly nausea, her mind caught up with her. 

This had to be a mistake. 

What was she doing?

This had to be crossing a line. Sure, Riley was the one who left her number. But there was no way that Riley didn’t regret that now. She probably didn’t even care anymore. Here Maya was, spending the entire weekend moping between being hurt by Lucas not telling her what really happened, by Zay for being the one who got to know, by Riley who just tried to help, when Riley probably hadn’t even had thought of Maya once since Friday and —

“Hello? _Maya_?”

Maya stopped in her tracks. She blurted out: “I don’t know why you put your full name on the note. I only know one Riley.”

“I also said to text me. You called me instead.” Shuffling came from Riley’s line, sounds as if she were leaving rooms. “You’d really do anything to annoy me, huh?”

Maya’s heart slowly dislodged itself from her throat and slotted back in her chest. She was thankful that Riley drew her own conclusions rather than asking why Maya called. She wouldn’t have known what to answer with if Riley had. “But you still answered. What’s that say about you?”

“That I’m sorry. I really am. I stand by it but I’m sorry for the pain —”

“ _No_.” Maya swallowed, carefully sitting on the floor in front of her bed. She stole a few seconds to think while her fingers clenched around the carpet underneath her. “Don’t apologize, okay? I was being a dick.”

“Hey, no you —”

“Yes, I was. That’s not fair of me to make you feel bad and apologize when you did the right thing. Lucas was being stupid. He could’ve seriously hurt himself and Oliver. You stopped it from escalating.”

“My Dad did all of that. Not me.”

“Yeah, because of you. Remember what I said about owning it? Own this too.” Maya leaned her head back on her bed. Her eyes flicked to the ceiling, drawn to the spots of blue and green paint splattered across it. It happened in the spring of junior year. Drunk at two am, after being dropped off from Lucas, she had the brilliant idea of painting the ceiling. With bottles of paint in her hands, she dipped her fingers and tossed the paint upwards. Of course, she didn’t take into account that she would get paint on her sheets as well. She left that for Hungover Maya to take care of the following morning. 

Maya counted the splotches of paint — four green, seven blue — before she spoke again. “You did the right thing. I’m sorry for making you feel bad about that. I was just pissed and I took it out on you because you were right there. You have nothing to explain to me.”

“Maya,” Riley said softly. “I get why you were mad. You weren’t trying to be mean.”

“Yeah, but I still was, and you’re just —” Even though Riley wasn’t here, Maya gestured vaguely with her hands. “You’re so good. You have, like, morals but you’re not judgy and you’re _so_ friendly but not in a fake way. You’re kind but not in a pushover way. Like I seriously don’t get you. How are you even real?”

“I don’t know? I _hope_ I’m real. I don’t know what to say. Thank you?”

“Don’t. I’m not being nice. Just saying what we all know.”

“Well, that’s even nicer. I’m glad you called.”

“Me too.” Maya surprised herself with how much she meant it.

“How’s Lucas holding up?”

“I wouldn’t know. I didn’t end up going to the game. I’m still pissed at him.”

“Oh no,” Riley said, concern in her voice. “You wanna talk about it?”

“No, it’s really nothing … But it’s like, I know mostly what we are, you know? I’m not expecting gifts on Valentine’s Day or pet-names or for us to hold hands or _whatever_ boyfriends do with their girlfriends because I know we’re different. But I thought … I thought that even if we don’t have that relationship, that we still had something real. Thing is, I know that fight with Oliver was about something real and personal that Zay knows and that Oliver must know about too but Lucas won’t tell me. I want to respect his privacy but at the same time, it still sucks. He said that I’d be scared of him if I knew which is bullshit. Nothing he could say would change anything, nothing but his silence. Doesn’t he know he can trust me? Or is it unfair of me to expect him to share this dark part of his life just because I’m pissed at him for fighting? I don’t know if it’s fair of me to feel mad or not but I am. And then I’m mad at myself for feeling mad. And everything just fucking sucks.”

At the long silence from Riley’s end, Maya cringed. She wanted so desperately to take her words and shove them back into her mouth. How rude would it be to end the call right now?

But then Riley hummed. “Well, you feel whatever you feel. There’s no right or wrong to what your emotions are because you can’t control them and even then, it’s like, how are _you_ hurting anyone by being angry? It’s what you do with your feelings, that’s what you’re responsible for. As for the rest of what you said … I’m really sorry things are hard right now. I don’t wanna give you advice you haven’t asked for, mostly because I think if I told you to just talk to him you would be annoyed by that.”

Maya huffed. “No, I wouldn’t.”

“See what I mean? Yes, you would. You _are_ , right now. Anyway, I just wanna say that if you feel upset, then that’s fine. Let it out before you take it out on Lucas and then you two can figure it out.”

“Huh.” Stiffness she’d been holding since Friday was gone, just like that. The fog had lifted and now things seemed much clearer. She still didn’t know how she felt but therein lied comfort in not knowing, in the acceptance of whatever messy feelings she’d inevitably discover within herself. “That’s really helpful. What the fuck?”

Riley’s chuckle crackled over the line. “That’s what happens when you spend two years in therapy, I guess.”

Maya sat up so quickly she heard a distinct crack. She fumbled for her phone, picking it up from her lap, and held it close to her face as if removing some distance did anything at all. “What?”

“I just. I mean, you shared that personal thing, so I figured — I’m not _sick_ and I’m not ashamed and it’s really good for anyone, regardless of if —”

“Whoa, relax. I was just shocked.” Maya mulled this over, considering her next words carefully. She didn’t want to say something hurtful. “That’s cool. It’s not a bad thing, I don’t — wait. Are you okay _now_? The appointment the other week was that with your therapist?”

“I’m fine,” Riley answered. Maya couldn’t tell if it was a lie or not. “The appointment was with my therapist, yeah, but only because my parents requested it. They just thought with my senior year coming up and that because it’d been a long time, maybe … I don’t know, maybe I was getting better at hiding it.”

Maya bit her lip to stop from asking what _it_ was. “And how’d it go?”

“My therapist said I was good. Her name’s Susanna, but I call her Susie and I trust her, you know? I had nothing to tell her except updates on my life. I was honest with her. I thought I didn’t need to pick therapy back up. She agreed. No big deal.” Maya didn’t need to know Riley well to hear the feigned casualty in her voice, how much effort it took to sound like it wasn’t a big deal.

“You don’t have to answer this,” Maya said slowly. “But what did you go to therapy for in the first place?”

Riley took in an audibly long breath. Maya tried to picture Riley — in a big bedroom, bright pink walls, a large queen-sized bed, a shelf packed with books and still lots of space leftover. Perhaps she had a desk, binders and notebooks and multi-coloured pens scattered across it, her laptop half-closed as she sat in front of it. She wanted so badly to see the look on Riley’s face, to not have this conversation with all this distance between them. But she supposed they wouldn’t have had this conversation at all if it weren’t for that.

“It was like,” Riley began, “I turned twelve and saw the world for the first time. It was big, terrifying, and mean and I didn’t want any of it. Which is fitting, since it felt like it didn’t want me either. And that became a thing I couldn’t handle, so my parents got me help. I went to therapy through the beginning of seventh grade until right before I started high school. And now I’m mostly functional.”

“Oh,” Maya said stupidly. Her image of Riley kept distorting and expanding, becoming so big that she could run miles away from it and still wouldn’t see all of her. It had only been a few weeks since their initial fight in class. Such little time yet so much had changed. Maya couldn’t believe she ever got Riley so wrong. “I don’t know if it’s weird to say thanks for sharing, but. Thanks for sharing? Not that my opinion of it matters but for what it’s worth, that’s cool that you handled your shit. Lots of the shitty people in the world wouldn’t be so shitty if they’d gone to therapy as kids. Not that I think you’re shitty but, you know.”

“Mm, I agree. Thanks for not thinking I’m shitty.”

“Same goes for you.”

A blanket of silence fell between them. Maya wrapped her arms around her knees, the cotton of her black-and-blue pyjama shorts soft on her skin. She looked out the window. Completely dark. Her alarm clock read 10:02 PM.

Riley cleared her throat. “So. Let’s go over tomorrow’s presentation real quick?”

“No,” Maya said through a groan, but she was already getting up to grab her history notes.

.

.

.

Maya wasn’t sure how it happened.

They briefly went over tomorrow’s presentation, yes, but then they just … kept talking. 

“You’re telling me he’s never bumped your grade up just because?”

“Absolutely not,” Riley said. “He’s got _principles_ and _morals._ You’d think there would have to be some perks of having your dad as your teacher but no. If anything it just makes me even more annoyed when he takes longer to grade our work. Like, he’ll share _fun_ anecdotes about his family and say ‘my daughter did this totally funny thing’ as if we don’t all know who he’s talking about!”

Maya laughed into the back of her hand. She was sprawled out across her bed, having since tied her hair up, lied down, and snuggled underneath her blanket. Her phone remained on speaker, held up against her pillow. “Must be a little nice though. Getting to see your dad so often. And he’s not a bad teacher or anything.”

“I know that. It’s just that he’s my dad before he’s anything else. I love him, but we’re both so annoying so we’re extra annoying to each other. There’ve been many instances where family dinner’s just us arguing about something from class. Everyone else in our family takes sides. My mom gets all lawyer about it and asks us questions like we’re in court. And everyone else votes on who they find guilty. Sometimes it’s a deadlock. When it’s not, though, it’s pretty evenly split between my dad and me.”

“Did you have one when your dad paired us up?”

“Yes! And everyone found me guilty and him reasonable. Which is like, my dad? Reasonable? In what universe?”

Maya laughed again. Another new thing she’d come to learn was that Riley was hilarious without trying. The genuine distress in Riley’s voice, the mere thought of what Riley’s face must have looked like? Comedic gold. 

“I have to ask though.” Maya pushed through her hesitation. If Riley could admit all of that about her therapist, then Maya could ask one question. “What do you think about it now?”

“Oh, he was right,” Riley said, not missing a beat. “I hate to say it but I can’t deny when his meddling actually does something good. You like me now.”

“I didn’t hate you before.”

“You didn’t like me before.”

“I didn’t _know_ you before,” Maya amended.

“And now?”

“Now I know you better. You’re not bad.”

“Thank you for such kind words.” Riley’s attempt at sarcasm was undercut by the giddiness in her voice. 

Maya took one of the pillows underneath her head. She held it tightly to her chest. “What about you, huh? Gimme some kind words back.” She was joking. Kind of.

“You’re very caring and determined. I like your sense of humour. Oh, and you’re nice to my dad. He likes you too.”

“What.” Maya’s brain nearly crashed with all this new information. “Your dad’s a teacher. He likes all of his students.”

“Yeah, but he has favourites. You’re one of his.”

“Well, _you’re_ his favourite favourite. You’re his kid.”

“I ... know?”

“And you’re, like, super smart,” Maya stammered. “I haven’t seen you actually do anything but I bet you’re a good cheerleader too.”

“I’m okay, I guess.”

“And you’re modest.”

Riley let out an infectious snort of laughter. “See? You’re funny.”

“Thank you?” Maya gripped the pillow in her hands tightly, needing to feel something solid to reassure herself that this wasn’t a lucid dream or an elaborate daydream. “You wanna hear a realization I’ve just come to?”

“Absolutely.”

“You’re not even a little annoying. I thought you were just tolerable but you’re more than that, you’re — oh, god, you’re nice to be around. This probably sounds so backhanded and I’m sorry but —”

“No, don’t be sorry!” Riley said quickly. “That’s actually kinda nice. I think? I mean, I’m flattered. Thank you.”

“I’m really sorry again. Don’t believe the crap that I said. I mean, believe what I said tonight but the rude stuff is all bullshit.”

“Me too. I know you don’t just care about your boy — is he your boyfriend? Okay, that’s not relevant, I’m sorry.”

“No, that’s fine. I don’t think he is.”

“You don’t think?”

“I don’t know,” Maya admitted. “I don’t know a lot anymore.”

“That’s okay.”

They’d crossed so many lines tonight, asked and offered so much that by now, Maya didn’t think twice about asking, “Do you love your boyfriend?” 

“Yes.”

“How do you know the difference? Between loving him and being in love?”

“I don’t know how to explain it. It’s not something you can describe, you know? It’s only something you feel but you’ll know it when it’s there.”

“And you know it? With Farkle?”

A few seconds passed. “Yeah,” Riley said finally. “I do. Don’t worry about it too much. Love is meant for everyone. You’ll fall in love eventually and it’ll be beautiful.”

“How can you be so sure? It’s not like you fall in love and that’s it.” Maya thought about the handful of pictures she had left of her dad and mom, sitting in a cardboard box, collecting dust in the very back of Katy’s closet. There was one photo of her young parents, standing in front of an old Honda Civic. Her father had his hand on Katy’s round stomach. She had her nose scrunched up in a smile, her eyes on the camera. But he was looking at her. Was that love? What was worse: him never loving her or him loving her without that being enough to make him stay? “Everything can, and usually does, go wrong.”

“Technically, I said you’ll fall in love. Not that it’ll end well. Still. Don’t you think it’s worth it? That the risk of a bad ending doesn’t outweigh the magic of the rest of the story?”

The air in Maya’s room turned cold. She pulled her blanket further up her body until it reached her shoulders but still couldn’t get warm enough. She wanted to tell Riley that yes, it did outweigh the bad. But she thought about her own parents. Wondered if Katy had the choice to take back ever meeting Maya’s father, whether she would take it or not. Thought about how Riley’s parents clearly loved each other just like Riley and Farkle. A year from now, long after graduation, would Riley and Farkle still be together? If they weren’t, would they regret it all? 

“I’ll get back to you,” Maya said. “I’ll let you know if I fall in love.”

“Mm, I look forward to hearing that I’m right.”

“Hey, I said _if_.”

“It’ll happen,” Riley said, smug smile in her voice. “I know it will.”

Something shifted in Maya’s chest. She ignored it and asked, “So how’s your bitch best friend?”

“She’s great,” Riley chirped. “She apologized after the party, you know. Missy’s a good person. You could like her.”

“I could also throw her out a window. I’ll even do it in your honour.”

“Ew, no, I don’t want that. Don’t defenestrate her.”

“What?”

“That’s the word for throwing someone out a window.”

“See, that makes me think you’ve thrown someone out a window because you know what that word is. Or you’re just that smart and read dictionaries for fun.”

“No, that’s Farkle.”

“Dude, your boyfriend confuses me so much. And he’s super close to Zay now too, which? I’m sure he’s a _lovely_ guy but it seems so mismatched.”

“He was hanging out with Zay and Lucas today, actually,” Riley said. “They went out for a drive and some ice-cream. I don’t know when that friendship happened but it’s nice, I guess.”

“Oh.” Maya’s stomach uncomfortably flipped. “That’s ... nice.”

“Aw, don’t be jealous.”

“You’re so wrong. Why would I be jealous of someone named _Farkle Minkus_?”

“Because you feel like he’s taking your spot in your trio?”

“You really came out of therapy as a therapist huh?” Maya regretted it as soon as she said it. “Shit, I don’t mean it in a bad way at all, you’re actually right, I —”

Riley burst into a fit of laughter. “No, it’s fine, it’s pretty funny. My dad said the same thing a few years back.” She giggled some more. Maya couldn’t help but do the same, rolling over in her bed to muffle the sound in her pillow. “You wanna talk about it?”

“No, no,” Maya said, her laughter fading out. “If I talk anymore about my shit then you’ll really be my therapist. I don’t know why I said all of that to you.”

“I won’t tell anyone.”

“No, I know. I just don’t like talking about personal stuff.”

“Honestly? Me neither. Not to my parents or Farkle or Missy. I don’t want them to worry.”

Maya’s mouth twitched into a smile. “What, you think _I_ won’t worry?”

“Will you?” Riley asked so blithely that Maya didn’t know what to do.

“Not if you don’t give me a reason to.”

Before Riley could respond, a key jingling into a lock distracted Maya. She got up too quickly and nearly toppled onto the floor, just barely landing on her feet. She hadn’t turned any of the lights off or cleaned her dishes, so if Katy saw —

“MAYA? Why the hell are you still awake?”

“Is everything okay?” Riley asked. 

“Probably not. One sec.” Maya took her phone off speaker, carrying it with her as she went and opened her door.

Katy stood in front of her. She was dressed in her diner’s uniform, hand on her hip, mouth in a thin-lipped, passive-aggressive smile. “Why are you still awake?”

“Hello to you too.”

“You have school tomorrow. It’s late.”

“It’s really no.” Maya checked her phone. Her battery was at twelve percent. Her phone had heated up, uncomfortable in her grasp. The top corner of her screen read 3:49 AM. “Shit. I didn’t notice.”

“You talking to that boyfriend of yours?”

“He’s not my boyfriend. You would know if you paid attention to my life.”

“Oh no, you two broke up?”

“ _No,_ we were never —” Maya gave up with a groan. “I’ll go to sleep now. You should too. Can’t spend your day off tomorrow sleeping in, can you?”

Katy’s smile turned soft around the edges. She moved her hand off of her hip and reached out to Maya. Maya stepped back, alarmed. But Katy’s hand only came up to cup Maya’s cheek.

“I’ll make you breakfast tomorrow,” Katy murmured. “Something nice.”

“I like coffee.” Maya didn’t know if she should touch Katy back, thank her, step closer towards her. This was new. She didn’t hate it.

“I’ll make coffee. And real food. You’ll see.”

“Yeah, okay. Sounds good.”

“Go to sleep. Tell your boyfriend to do the same as well.”

Maya chucked her phone onto her bed. If the universe didn’t hate her, then Riley wouldn’t have heard a word of this conversation. “Will do. Goodnight, Mom.”

Katy stroked her thumb down Maya’s cheek. She flashed her another smile, smaller but more intimate, before she exited Maya’s room. 

Maya didn’t bother asking Katy to close the door this time. She closed it herself before she rolled onto her bed, left hand grabbing blindly around her bed until her fingers found her phone. “Still there?”

“Yeah,” Riley’s sleepy voice came in. “Everything okay?”

“Yup. Don’t know if you realized though but it’s almost four in the morning.”

“Oh no. We’re gonna _die_ tomorrow.”

“Probably.”

“Our presentation —”

“Riley,” Maya interjected. “We’ll be fine. We know what we’re doing. Most of our grade is in the actual work anyway and like you said, your dad’s an easy grader. Plus, we’re his favourites.”

“You’re right. I’ll bring us some iced coffee from the bakery tomorrow.”

“You don’t have —”

“Shh. I’ll bring iced coffee and we’ll do great. See you tomorrow. Sweet dreams!”

“You too. And, uh.” Maya flipped her light-switch off, walked back to her bed, and crawled underneath her covers. Her blanket, pulled up to her neck, enveloped her in warmth. “It was nice talking to you.”

“You too, Maya.”

.

.

.

When Maya entered the history classroom that next morning, ten minutes until the bell rang, she almost couldn’t believe the sight of Riley. 

Riley was perched on her father’s desk in her cheerleading uniform. Her bare legs were crossed, feet balanced on her own desk pushed close to Matthews’ desk. Her left hand held an iced-coffee. Her right held cue-cards. She flipped through her cue-cards with just one hand, muttering under her breath. Bathed in morning sunlight, her face glowed. She looked ridiculously perfect. Hair neatly pushed out of her face. Face clear and bright. Not an eye-bag, zit, or blemish in sight. 

Maya almost bolted. She looked like trash in comparison. She hadn’t bothered with make-up outside of dark red lipstick. Now, she sorely regretted it.

Despite her reservations, she forced her feet to move, one after another, until she stood right in front of Riley. Up close, Riley looked even better. Her brown eyes shone, intense with determination. Maya was half-scared, half-excited.

“Dude,” Maya said. “ _This_ is what you look like on four hours of sleep?”

Riley looked up from her cue-cards. She broke into a grin, reaching behind her to lift a second and nearly brimming large-sized iced coffee. “Three and a half. Had to get up a little early so I could get a ride with my dad.” She passed Maya her drink. Their fingers brushed. Maya was proud she didn’t drop it and make a mess on the floor.

“Thanks.” She took a sip from the side. Topanga’s made the shift a little under two years ago from replacing plastic straws with a small rectangular hole in the lids so one could drink without a straw. They still had straws for those who needed it but Maya never did. “Speaking of, where is your dad?”

“I convinced him to only come in when the bell rang so we could practice without him lurking. We’re gonna sway him and we can only do it properly if the material is fresh to him. You know?”

“Of course I don’t.” Maya hid her smile behind another sip of her drink, much sweeter than she was used to. “Did you make this?”

“Yup.” Riley made a face. “Don’t tell me you hate it. You know how many jokes I had to endure about how I’d poison you with what I made? Okay, it was only three, but it was three too many.”

Maya dropped her backpack by the legs of Riley’s chair. She climbed up on Riley’s desk, swinging her legs as she soaked in Riley’s vehement scowl. “Dunno what your family’s on but it’s really fucking good. Thanks again.”

“Please let my dad know I didn’t kill you with coffee.” Riley’s smile brightened the entire room. She looked pleased with herself, carrying a radiance that made Maya look around incredulously to see if anyone else was seeing this. But the few students already seated were staring at their phones. They somehow hadn’t noticed Riley. 

“Will do.” Maya set her cup on Riley’s desk. Cracked her knuckles. Tipped her head at the order of presentations scrawled on the chalkboard, Riley and Maya’s names in green in the first slot. “Now let’s kill this.”

.

.

.

“Holy shit,” Maya whispered to Riley as they returned to their seats. Forty minutes later and this stupid assignment was finally over with. Sure, Maya’s hands were covered in sweat, throat dry from so much talking, and she’d been so nervous her heart felt like it would beat its way out of her chest. She also had to catch herself from swearing at two different times. Matthews hadn’t explicitly ruled out of profanity during a presentation but Maya had just enough common sense not to use that as a loophole.

The next pair stepped to the front of the class. One of them headed towards the computer to switch the screen away from Riley and Maya’s PowerPoint to theirs. Matthews erased Riley and Maya’s name off of the board. This stupid group project was really finished.

“I know right?” Riley flashed Maya a grin. She plopped onto her seat and sat backwards, facing Maya. Her feet tapped against the floor, her hands fidgeting with the chair. Only a few hours of sleep and here she was, all smiles, energy all over the place, bursting with excitement. Maya suspected that Riley didn’t need the caffeine to be this hyper. “We crushed it.”

“Cheers to that.” Maya brought her fist in front of Riley.

Riley’s grin widened, taking up her entire face, as she bumped her fist against Maya’s. When she took her fist back, her fingers mimed an explosion. She made accompanying sounds of a blast under her breath.

Maya felt a warm stab. “You’re such a dork.”

“There’s nothing wrong with —”

“Wasn’t an insult.”

The offended furrow of Riley’s eyebrows smoothed over. “Oh. Thank you?”

“You’re welcome.”

The presentations resumed. Within five minutes of the next one, Maya fell asleep. She woke up to someone pushing her shoulder. She slapped their hand away. “Five minutes.”

“Dude, history’s done. You have class to get to. And you’re drooling. Get up.”

“Zay, be nicer!”

“Have you met Maya? Do you think she’ll wake up if I’m whispering and saying please?”

“He’s right,” Maya grumbled. She opened her eyes. The harsh fluorescent lighting made her wince and block her eyes with her hand. She had a crick in her neck, drool on her chin. She looked around and found that the rest of her classmates had already left. Even Matthews was gone.

She was a certified mess. 

It didn’t help that Zay and Riley looked down at her, varying degrees of alarm on their faces.

“Morning sunshine,” Zay said. 

Maya grunted.

“You feeling okay?” Riley darted her eyes from the clock then back to Maya. “You knocked out for the rest of the period.”

“Just, you know. Tired.” Her lips spread into the barest of smiles. “Didn’t get much sleep.”

Riley’s eyes crinkled with a returning smile. Maya hadn’t legitimately considered that Riley regretted their long phone-call but now that she had confirmation that Riley didn’t, a flood of relief overwhelmed her.

“I should head to class,” Riley said, almost apologetic. “Leung’s the coolest Biology teacher but even he won’t hesitate to tell my dad if I’m late.”

“Really is a mixed bag of having your dad as your teacher, huh?”

“For sure.”

“Well, uh, have fun in Biology?”

“That’s impossible, but thank you. Bye Maya. Bye Zay. See you guys tomorrow!” Riley slowly walked backwards, flitting her gaze between Zay and Maya as she waved at them both. She bumped into a desk. “Shoot, sorry!” Maya didn’t understand why Riley apologized to them until it occurred to her that Riley’s apology was meant for the desk, which she understood less.

The second Riley was out the door, Zay gave her a pointed look. “What was that?”

Maya rose from her seat. She slung her backpack over her back, tucked her chair in with her hip. “What was what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me.”

“I’m not playing dumb, I just ... am dumb. Don’t communicate poorly with me. What’re you talking about?”

He leaned against his desk, arms crossed, shoulders squared. “All that with Riley. Why’d you sound so nervous?”

“Nervous? Why would I be nervous?” Her face burned red. She scratched below her ear, anxious for the next class to use this classroom to hurry up and get here already. 

“You tell me.”

“How about you tell me what you think?”

“I think,” he said, scratching his chin. “You’ve made a new friend. Replacing us already?”

Maya sighed. In one swift motion, she grabbed Zay’s arm, ignored his complaints, and tugged him out of the classroom and into the overcrowded hallway. She steered them towards the set of stairs that led up the third-floor where he had his second-period Chemistry class. “You know I’m not mad at you, right?”

“I know.” He pulled her shoulder, moving her out of the way so an incoming giant of a freshman didn’t walk right into her. “But our little group implodes if you’re mad at Lucas. Will you at least talk to him?”

“Will someone at least tell me what the fuck Oliver was talking about then? That shit about Lucas and his dad?”

“You know I can’t tell you that.”

“Then I guess not.” She pushed open the doors to the stairway with her back, holding it open for Zay. He murmured a quick thanks. “Look, I get it, okay? I really do. But he can’t keep doing shit like that. How fucking irresponsible is that?”

“You’re not perfect either. _You’ve_ been suspended before.”

They jogged up the stairway. Maya trailed behind Zay, her breath caught in her throat. “That was one time!” First semester, eleventh grade. She may or may not have been high in class. She wasn’t stupid enough to have anything in her locker or on her but she and Lucas openly discussed the edibles they’d taken earlier that day. They both got suspended, one day each. (They’d spent it together. In his apartment. Getting high. The education system was deeply flawed.) 

“I’ve never beat someone up,” she added, following him up the stairs. “But I’m sure if I did and both of you told me to stop, I would. Aren’t you pissed at him?”

Zay stopped at the top step. He swung around so quickly that she almost fell back. “Of course I am,” he said, his voice breaking. “But he’s my best friend. In case you’ve forgotten, he’s yours too.”

The bell rang. Second period had officially begun. Zay didn’t move a muscle. Neither did Maya.

She raised her chin. “This doesn’t mean I’m never speaking to him again.”

“Then what does it mean?”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“Maya ...”

She put her hand on his shoulder. Brought her face close enough to his so he’d have to look at her. Held his gaze. “Don’t you?”

“Yes,” he said softly.

“Then don’t worry.”

“He misses you, you know? He feels really bad.”

“Is that why you two went for ice cream with Minkus yesterday?”

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous of Farkle.”

She scoffed. She lightly pushed him forward so they could exit the stairway. “I won’t. Because I’m not. I’m just saying that I’m not the only one who’s made a new friend.”

He held the door open for her. After they both walked through to say, he said, “Farkle’s not the point here. You and Luke are. Whatever it is, fix it, okay? This year’s supposed to be our year. Don’t break up and —”

“Ruin it?” She raised an eyebrow as they walked down the now empty, almost dead-silent hallway. 

“I was going to say don’t change it. At least stay friends then.”

“ _You_ need to quit worrying. You’re more freaked out over this than he is.”

“You’re joking. He’s a mess. I know you miss him too.”

She didn’t say anything. She didn’t know what to say, so she wordlessly dragged him further down the hallway until he reached his classroom. 

“You should probably sprint to class now,” he told her. 

“Nah, I’m skipping. _Don’t_ give me that look. I went to bed late and only came ’cause of that presentation.”

“You did a great job. Who knew you that you and Riley could work together so well?” Zay’s face split into a knowing grin.

“You’re so annoying,” Maya said fondly. “Now _go._ How you get straight-As is beyond me when you’re like this.”

He shrugged. “How you don’t is beyond me too. But after this history assignment, I have a feeling that’s gonna change.” He wasn’t even saying it to be nice. His sincerity swelled her heart.

She smiled despite herself. “You’re too nice.” She glanced past him and into his classroom, noting the opened door. “Alright, I’m doing this because I care.” She pushed him by the shoulders, hard enough that he stumbled back into his classroom.

As he went crashing, ironically enough, caught by Farkle, Zay sent her the finger.

Maya blew him a kiss. She ducked down the hall before Farkle could see her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if any og readers of infinity remember the phone-call scene, then cheers! this, like much of this fic, turned out really different from that scene but i liked it anyway. also it's only been one chapter without lucas (and not even entirely, he was in the first 1k) but i miiiiiiiiiiss him
> 
> i've just plotted up to chapter 18 and whew, we have a long ride ahead of us and i'm so fucking excited. i'd love to know your thoughts on the lucas situation, riley's therapy 'reveal', and maya's ... general 'i'm doing my best but goddammit life is testing me rn'. 
> 
> next chapter has got more of my bbg smackle, farkle, and 🏈!! until then, take care. :-)


	10. Chapter 10

Maya hadn’t meant to stare at Isadora’s artwork, but once she caught sight of it, she couldn’t stop looking.

“Holy shit,” Maya said appreciatively. She tucked her graded portrait underneath her sketchbook and peered closer to Isadora’s. 

Isadora had drawn a little girl. Round, chubby cheeks. Nose wrinkled in laughter. Stars in her eyes. Bursts of gold and red behind her. Her hair in the process of being tied into pigtails, long fingers moving the ends. Seamless strokes, neat colouring, tenderness brought alive on paper. “You’re incredible. Is that your younger sister?”

Isadora looked pleased. “Yes. I don’t know why but she always likes when I style her hair for her. It calms her down. She’s rarely ever calm otherwise. Three is a very hard age.”

“What’s her name?” 

“Silver.”

“ _Silver_?” Maya repeated loudly. She earned a few pointed glances. One particularly alarmed look came from Middleton which Maya deserved considering it was the middle of class.

They’d gotten their graded portraits back to them today. Their next assignment had been given to them yesterday. Painting would start next week. Rough drafts were due by then but Maya had already finished hers. She figured that Isadora, with her sketchbook closed and a Physics textbook opened on her side of the desk, was finished too. 

“That’s a cool name,” Maya whispered. “What the fuck?”

“It’s really unique. Like her.” Isadora’s thumb traced the outline of Silver’s nose. Her eyes crinkled with a faint smile. “Who’d you draw for yours?”

“My mom.”

“May I see?”

Maya hesitated. “I don’t know. It’s not as good as yours.”

“I’m sure that’s not true. What did Miss Middleton give you?”

“Funny story. I haven’t checked yet.”

Faster than Maya could anticipate, Isadora reached from under Maya’s sketchbook and snatched her portrait. She flipped to the back where a slip of paper with their grade and comments was attached.

“Hey, you can’t look at —”

“You did perfectly. _Vivid, thoughtful, engaging_ ,” Isadora read off. “Why are you worried?”

“Why are you lying?”

“I’m not. See for yourself.” Isadora slid Maya’s work back to her.

Maya’s heartbeat shot up. She buried her hands underneath her knees, nails digging into her skin. The thought of checking her grade made her nauseous. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re an asshole.”

“You think so?”

“You braid your sister’s hair and you’re the only person in this class that talks to me. Of course you’re not an asshole.” Maya bit her lip. She rocked back and forth in her seat, her stool creaking painfully against the floor.

Isadora had no reason to lie. Maya had no reason to be afraid of a number.

“Fuck it.” She flipped open to her grade and zeroed in on the number written in red. A loopy ‘100’ with a smiley face next to it. Her jaw dropped. “No fucking way.”

“Yes fucking way,” Isadora said. “Good work. Miss Middleton only hands out perfect grades like those to students she thinks deserves it. I’ll take a better look at your portrait in a minute if you’ll let me. Do you like jasmine tea?”

Maya looked up from her grade. She didn’t realize she was smiling until she comprehended Isadora’s question. “What?”

“I’m gonna make some tea.”

“ ... Now?”

“Yes. We usually make tea here during lunch but she doesn’t mind us drinking it in class too.”

“During lunch?”

“Yup. A lot of us stay here for lunch. We eat, draw, play games, ask Miss Middleton about her life. She’s really insightful. We also drink tea.”

“Would you guys —” Maya cleared her throat. The girl currently offering her tea wouldn’t laugh or make fun of her for her question. Even if she did, what did it matter anyway? Maya would live. “Would you guys be okay with anyone new coming in?”

“Who?”

“Oh, well, you know.”

“I don’t.”

“Me,” Maya forced out. “Been meaning to switch up my lunch spots.” Half-lie. She had been meaning to switch it up but that was because she couldn’t stand to sit with Lucas for the foreseeable future. 

“Of course.”

“I’m serious, don’t be nice to spare my feelings.”

“Why would I say yes without meaning it?”

“To be nice,” Maya reiterated.

Isadora’s eyebrows furrowed. “That wouldn’t be nice to pretend to be okay with you coming. I’m also a terrible liar. I need to work on that.”

“I could help you with it,” Maya offered. “Practice makes perfect.”

Isadora visibly brightened. She hopped off of her stool, dusting off her forest-green skirt over her black tights. “Excellent. I’ll make us tea first.”

Maya watched Isadora shimmy between the classroom’s long desks to reach the other side of the room. For a split-second, she hesitated, halfway out of her seat.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

“Wait up,” Maya called out. She leapt off her stool to join Isadora on the other side of the classroom. “Maybe you can teach me how to make really good tea?”

Isadora had just pulled out the kettle, now plugging it into an outlet. She looked over her shoulder, pushed her glasses up her nose as Maya approached her.

Isadora’s small, fleeting smile felt like a gift.

.

.

.

What was weirder than Maya spending the rest of that week eating lunch in the art room was that she kind of liked it.

“Dylan, how did you get a _third_ water bottle stuck in the ceiling?” Middleton asked, torn between awe and disapproval.

At the very back of the room, Dylan leaned back in his seat, squinting at the ceiling. “Blame whoever put those weird beams at the top of an art classroom.” He lifted another empty water bottle — why did he have so many? — and aimed it at the ceiling.

His friend next to him, whose name Maya couldn’t remember for the life of her, slapped the bottle out of Dylan’s hand. “Stop being stupid.”

Dylan gasped. “Miss Middleton, Elise called me stupid!”

Middleton shrugged. “Well, what else do you call throwing plastic into school property?”

“An act of rebellion?” Isadora suggested. She downed a third of her black tea in one ago, prompting Maya to do the same.

Or at least try. It burned her tongue and stung her mouth to the point where she hissed. “Dude, how the fuck did you do that?”

“What, does it hurt?”

“It’s fucking burning.”

“Does it taste good, though?”

“Oh, it’s great. Past the way it’ll scar my tongue, I loved how tea-ish it was. Okay, that sounds like I don’t actually like it. I do! I’m just bad at describing things.”

“You are a good liar. You’ve confirmed that yourself.”

“Why would I lie about liking your tea? I would tell you I hated it if I did.”

“You swear?”

“All the time,” Maya said. “But like, if you mean if I’m promising you, then yeah. I prefer your chamomile though but I think that has more to do with the type than the fact you made it.”

“Ooh, Isadora, you tried the black tea?” Middleton perked up. She took a final gulp of her remaining soup before she wheeled towards them in her rolling-chair. Middleton and Isadora eagerly began a discussion on tea. Maya tuned it out. She had spent an entire week’s worth of lunches in the art classroom and learned three things.

One: any student, regardless of whether Middleton taught them or not, could unwind here. All types from athletes to STEM-focussed students lounged here, cycling in and out depending on the day.

Two: Maya’s art classmates did not hate her. Other students made her tea, complimented her artwork from the assignments Middleton had put up around the room, asked if she wanted any of their Doritos or french fries or cookies. Strangely nice. Probably genuine. 

Three: Isadora and Middleton could go on and _on_ about the most niche topic for hours. Middleton had a degree in astrophysics, discussing in great detail the post-secondary program Isadora was interested in. Something to do with science. It had a long name Maya couldn’t remember. 

The point was, once these two got to talking, Maya had to find something else to do. She wouldn’t be able to follow along with whatever conversation they were having. She’d made her peace with that.

She unlocked her phone and tried to find a reference for a new drawing somewhere in the millions of tabs she had open. Distantly, Dylan was trying to knock one of the water bottles he’d gotten stuck by throwing another one at it. She half-listened to him, half-listened to the tea jargon from next to her. 

Maya liked this. Sitting in a classroom outside of class, surrounded by her classmates, classical piano low over the speakers, a half-empty mug of tea in front of her, paintings strung on the walls, everyone around her either making or discussing art. (Save for Dylan who Maya didn’t understand at all.) 

But did that really mean she belonged here? These were smart, considerate, and talented people. They’d taken Visual Arts since freshman year. This room had been their home for three years and Maya had only now joined. 

Three days in a row she’d come, lunch clutched in her shaking hands as she frantically searched the room for Isadora in order to step inside, tentative to accept this invitation open to everyone.

Isadora said Maya was welcome. Middleton didn’t mind. She had nowhere else to go. What else mattered? 

Middleton’s squeaky laughter brought Maya back to herself. Middleton unwrapped her scarf, today’s a black-and-white checkered pattern, and absentmindedly folded it on her lap. “You crack me up. That’s the funniest joke about coppery I’ve ever heard.”

Maya’s next breath came easier. Her shoulders relaxed, jaw unclenched. She held herself looser. She absolutely didn’t belong here. But no one cared that she was here anyway, so neither would Maya.

.

.

.

She found her reference picture shortly but got too distracted with Tetris on her phone to actually use it. Usually, nothing could get her out of her Tetris zone when she was really into it.

But a knock at the classroom door made her look up. 

Riley leaned against the doorframe, a step away from the classroom. Her fingers pinched either side of her cheerleading skirt. She scanned the classroom, a resolute look on her face that faded when she saw Maya. “Maya!”

Maya pocketed her phone, forgetting all about Tetris. She considered making a crack about Riley following her or this not being the history classroom, but all that came out was, “Are you here for me?” She regretted it instantly.

“Yes. I had no way of knowing that you would be here but my detective skills are just that amazing.” 

“I’m impressed.” Maya waited for Riley to step inside, but she didn’t. “You can come in, you know. No one’s gonna attack you. You’re fine here.” Riley’s chattiness had to be rubbing off on her. Maya needed to shut up. 

“That sounds like something someone would say before attacking you,” Riley said. Maya couldn’t help but laugh, relieved that her stupid comments weren’t — okay, they were definitely as stupid as she thought they were but at least Riley didn’t seem to mind. “But I’d like to think you wouldn’t attack me with a teacher next to you, so.”

Maya scooted to the edge of her stool. She leaned in, elbows up on her table, chin resting on her palm. “You have a lot of faith in me.”

“I do,” Riley said easily. Maya couldn’t tell if Riley was teasing or not.

Maya cleared her throat. She fixed her posture, crumpled up the tinfoil she’d used to wrap her lunch — dry, plain sandwich, made in a rush this morning right before she left for school. She made a boll and tossed it between her hands. “So what’re you actually doing here?”

Riley squeezed between the desks, her forehead creased with concentration. Maya didn’t blame her. In the near month that Maya had been in this class, the room had been in a constant state of disarray. Half-finished sculptures lined at the ends of the tables, cups full of paint-mixed water littering every surface, piles of napkins threatening to fall over wherever you turned. One wrong move could spill paint on the floor or ruin a student’s hard work. Riley’s cautiousness made sense. 

Maya considered psyching Riley, maybe throwing out a “Don’t step there!” and see what happened. But the risk of potentially destroying someone’s art left a sour taste in her mouth.

Riley made it safely to Maya’s desk without knocking anything over. She did a small, victorious fist bump 

In her journey to Maya’s desk, Riley didn’t knock anything over. Her victorious shone brightly as she approached Maya. “I’m here to talk to Miss Middleton but it can wait.” She glanced at Middleton’s desk where Isadora and Middleton had moved. Their ridiculously long discussion on tea had progressed with them examining packets from Middleton’s desk.

“Talking to an art teacher even though you’re not in the twelfth-grade art class? Now I’m really thinking you wanted to see me.” Maya plastered on a dry smile, her hand over her heart. “I’m flattered.” 

“She’s the interim cheerleading coach. Our coach had a family emergency. It’s her mom.”

“Oh. Shit. I’m sorry.”

Riley heaved out a sigh, her eyes downcast to the floor. “Yeah. It’s really sad. Her mom decided to go to Vegas to elope with her boyfriend so now Coach Bennet and her siblings are going to stop it because, and I quote, ‘getting married in Vegas without your kids is stupid and she’s being stupid.’” 

Maya let out a strangled laugh. “Are you kidding me? You are _so_ vindictive.” 

“I’m an angel!” 

“Do angels _lie_ about sickly parents?”

“I didn’t lie,” Riley protested. “I used a different tone to make you think it was bad news. I took ninth grade drama. Not to brag but I finished with a ninety-eight.”

“You’re so modest,” Maya deadpanned. At Riley’s snort of laughter, Maya’s mouth cracked into a helpless smile. She craned her head to glance at the line of empty stools behind Riley. “You wanna take a seat?”

“Oh. Sure.” Riley dragged the stool closest to her. She brought it close to the other side of Maya’s desk before she sat, backpack in her lap. “How’s Lucas?”

Maya blinked. Everything from how _close_ Riley was sitting, their feet almost brushing underneath the table, to the mere mention of Lucas’ name was a lot at once. She couldn’t run away from this conversation. With Riley’s friendly smile and sincere question, she didn’t really want to either. 

“I wouldn’t know,” Maya said. “I’m sure he’s fine. Outside of the bruise on his face. Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“With your sad eyes. You look sad for me.”

“Well, it’s a sad —”

“It really isn’t. Don’t …” Maya’s toes curled up, twitching with discomfort. “Don’t feel bad for me.”

Riley reached across the table, palm out to Maya. A split-second later, her expression flickered. She set her hands face-down instead. Maya recognized that glint of determination in Riley’s eyes — the same as when she told them they’d ace their project, except it was stronger now than before. “I empathize with you. Not sympathize. There’s a difference.”

“No there isn’t. Those are synonyms. The words are literally the same except for, like, their first two letters.” Maya shook her head. “Whatever it is, this whole thing with him isn’t a big deal, okay?”

“Well, how do _you_ feel about it?”

Maya’s brain short-circuited. “What?”

“How do you feel? You were really distressed when we talked Sunday, so are you feeling better about it now?”

“I feel …” Maya drew a blank. She shrunk underneath Riley’s kind eyes. “Dude, I don’t know. How do you feel?”

Riley tilted her head. “How do I feel about how you feel or how I feel about Lucas?”

“Whichever you want.”

“Um. I think Lucas is nice? He matters a lot to you. He gets in fights a lot but I think that might mean he’s sensitive.”

“Sensitive,” Maya repeated, dubious. “You don’t think that makes him an angry dick instead?”

“Maybe he’s angry, but that can’t be all he is. The way I see it is I don’t have the full picture so how can I act like I do? I mean, I obviously judge people from first impressions, everyone does, but it’s still important to remember people have reasons. There aren’t excuses for what you do but there are always reasons. Maybe he’s got anger issues, I can’t say, but from what you told me, it just seems like he cares a lot. Whatever Oliver told him had to strike a nerve. I don’t think he wanted to punish Oliver. I think maybe he had a lot of hurt that he didn’t know what to do with and Oliver was right there. And you wouldn’t be so close to someone that, in your words, is a dick. So that’s my two cents.” 

“Is that therapy talk?” Maya didn’t know what else to say, too dazed to tell Riley anything genuine.

“Partly,” Riley said, her smile almost shy. “My parents are very open. They talk like that a lot.”

Maya saw it finally. The striking resemblance between Riley and Matthews, their big beating hearts, their shared ability to stun Maya with their openness. “So you really don’t think he’s an asshole?” 

“No. Do you?”

“No. It’s just that lots of people do. They don’t even give him a chance.”

“Well, I’m full of chances.” 

“Yeah,” Maya said, voice barely audible. She ran her hand down the back of her hair to move her hands, suddenly hyper-aware of every part of her from her eyelashes down to her toes. She attempted a casual shrug, hoped it didn’t look as awkward as it had felt. “I’d know all about that, wouldn’t I?” 

“You would, wouldn’t —”

“MAYA!”

Maya nearly fell out of her stool. She clutched her chest, gaping at the front of the classroom. But once she saw the culprit, she rolled her eyes. “Why are you yelling?”

“Why are you spending lunch _here_?” Zay glanced around the classroom, lower lip curled up. “This place is a death-trap. You could get paint in your water bottle.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” She raised her eyebrows. Gestured for him to enter inside. Patted Isadora’s empty stool. “Come in.”

Zay’s expression soured. “Fine.” He tiptoed his way inside, navigating his way until he plopped into the stool next to Maya. He elbowed Maya in greeting and flashed Riley a smile. “Hey, Riley. Whatcha doing here?”

“Hi Zay! I’m waiting to talk to Middleton.”

Underneath the table, Maya blindly moved her foot until she hit Riley’s leg. 

Riley kicked her back, smile unwavering. “And having a lovely conversation with the even lovelier Maya.”

“It’s true,” Maya said. “I am very lovely.” 

Zay laughed. He turned in his seat, legs on either side of the stool, and faced Maya. His eyes flickered, smile fading. 

“What did he ask you to do?” Maya asked flatly.

“Luke didn’t ask me to do anything. I’m here as your friend and your friend is asking you to come to today’s football game.” When Maya’s mouth opened to reply, Zay’s eyes widened. He quickly pointed to Riley, continuing with, “Riley will be there! Don’t you wanna support your friend? Riley, don’t you want Maya there?”

Maya and Zay snapped their heads at Riley. 

Riley gulped. “Only if Maya wants to be there. Whatever she wants.”

Maya could lean over the table and crush Riley into a hug. Bless her soul. “Thank you, Riley. Whatever I want, huh? What I want is to stay home tonight.”

“No,” Zay said.

“No?”

“I mean. Please?” His expression cracked, the firmness in his voice bleeding into a vulnerability that pained Maya to hear. “He’s not going to talk to you again until you’re ready. You won’t be ready until you see him. I’m not asking you to forgive him or talk.”

“Okay.”

“I need you to be open to it. Give yourself a little push, see how you really —”

“I’ll go.”

“— feel, and if you can’t do it for him, then do it for _me._ ‘Cause you’re my friend, right, I’m not asking as Luke’s best —”

“Isaiah.” Maya splayed her fingers over his knee and squeezed tightly. He fell silent, jolted out of his rambling. “I’ll come,” she promised, voice so soft she almost repeated herself until Zay’s slow nod confirmed he heard her. 

“Really?”

“Really. You asked. We’re _friends,_ so.” Maya shrugged. She tried to appear nonchalant but it was difficult not to smile when Zay threaded their fingers and waved their joined hands. 

“Aw, you guys.” Riley cupped her cheeks with both hands, darting her eyes between Maya and Zay as if they were newborn puppies. “That was so cute. I’m really proud of you both.”

Maya wanted to roll her eyes, say something sarcastic. But Zay kept moving their hands, smiling so big his dimples appeared, and Riley was still looking at them as if — Riley’s words, not Maya’s — they were cute. 

Maya couldn’t bring herself to be anything but sincere. “Thank you. I’ll guess I’ll see ya tonight?”

“Definitely. We’re kicking serious ass tonight.” She grunted like a bulldog — their mascot was a patriot, right, why was Maya the only one who knew this — and scrunched her face up, the least intimidating attempt at intimidation that Maya had ever seen. Riley raised both hands.

Zay slapped his hands against Riley’s, hard. They barked in tandem, chests puffed out, hands in fists. Soon, the only noise in the classroom was their weird, pre-game chant. Everyone stopped and stared at them in bewilderment. Even Middleton and Isadora’s tea discussion took a pause. Isadora didn’t look baffled, only curious. Middleton’s mouth hung open like she was unsure if she should tell them to stop or not.

Maya considered apologizing for Riley and Zay or telling them to stop. But she wasn’t sorry about anything. She didn’t want them to stop, either, not with how hard she was laughing. 

.

.

.

According to Zay, tonight’s football game started a quarter to seven. That gave her a couple of hours to kill so of course, the only place she would do so would be the place that seemed to cause and fix all of her problems.

“You’re here!” Matthews jumped up from his seat. He tucked his red pen into the collar of his shirt, the tip of the pen open and dangerously close to marking his highlighter-yellow tie. “I was thinking no one would come today. Too excited for the game tonight I guess.”

“Are you going?” Even with all the empty seats, Maya still took her usual seat, two away from Matthew’s desk. She slung her backpack across the back of her chair, pulling out her navy English binder. “Y’know, to see your daughter?”

“Definitely. I’ve been to almost all of her home games.”

“Doesn’t she like. Go to pretty much _every_ sports game the school plays in?”

Matthews nodded eagerly, a gleam in his eyes. “Yes. She and the squad are amazing. It’s remarkable how much work they put in, how resilient and strong-willed they are. And the flips they do! I don’t know how they do it! I can’t even do a headstand properly. Riley’s tried teaching me but I’m hopeless.”

How a middle-aged history teacher could be so endearing, Maya didn’t know. It was probably terrible for her to laugh because Matthews was pouting, but. Obviously she did it anyway. “So she can learn all your history crap but you can’t learn one cheerleading move? How unfair.”

“History isn’t crap. I’m surprised you’d say that considering the grade you received for your project.”

Maya momentarily forgot how to breathe. “What? Is that — is that a good or a bad thing?”

“Don’t be scared! It’s a good thing,” Matthews reassured. “Definitely good. I’m not done grading everyone else’s assignments yet but I think you’ll be happy.”

“I could still fail Monday’s quiz.” She forced nonchalance as she flipped her binder open, scouring through to find her homework. “Or tank the rest of the semester.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. I’m optimistic.” 

“I’m realistic.” 

“Maya, have some faith in yourself. You’re here, aren’t you? You’re trying. That always counts.”

She squashed her foolish urge to ask him if he promised, if he really meant what he was saying, if he knew for a fact this would count for anything. Low expectations were always the safest bet. If things went south, you wouldn’t be surprised, and on the off-chance they didn’t, the surprise would be even sweeter. If she got her hopes up, the fall would be even more devastating when she ended up failing the semester. Why risk that? 

“I’ll look over my notes this weekend,” Maya said evenly. “So heads up for you that if I do flunk your quiz, I did bother trying.”

“That’s great to hear.” He smiled and it was silly, how much she appreciated it. “I was also happy to see that you and Riley are getting along. My plan worked, didn’t it?” Take back what she said about appreciating him. She could do without the increasingly smug look on his face.

“No, it failed.” 

“Really?”

“Yup. I still, uh. Hate her guts.”

“Is that why you two talked for hours Sunday night?” 

“She _told_ you?”

He adjusted the height of his chair, nodding as he boosted up an inch. “My partner works weird hours, coming and going and waking in the middle of the night sometimes, and Riley isn’t very quiet, so. We all thought she was talking to Farkle.”

Maya risked a glance at the door. It was only a few feet away. Matthews would understand if she bolted now. 

“It’s okay,” Matthews said.d “You don’t have to say anything. I’m glad you two are good on terms and, dare I say, friends?”

“Can’t answer that.” This was the most honest answer Matthews would get from here.

“Well, I won’t push. You two did all I asked of you. You got through this project and did an excellent job, so I’ll leave it at that.”

She allowed herself a brief moment to glow under his praise before she steadfastly dimmed. One decent grade didn’t guarantee anything. She had to remember that. If anything, that reminder would make her work harder and crush Monday’s quiz. Probably. 

“Thanks,” Maya said sheepishly. “I was this close to running out of here.”

“You’re wel — what?”

.

.

.

Maya spent a total of five seconds trying to find a seat before deciding she hated this.

What was fun about high school football? Who enjoyed the marching band playing their school song at a deafening volume? Who liked the overcrowded, hot, and stuffy stands that forced everyone to forget about personal space and practically sit in each other’s laps? Who appreciated the fact that the game was supposed to start fifteen minutes ago, but both teams were still warming up?

Hint: not Maya.

Granted, the extra time did help her with the pressing issue of having _nowhere to sit._

But after five minutes of searching, the universe took pity on her. (Finally.) She was Maya, though, so of course, this pity was tinged by her terrible luck.

A few rows down, right in front of the field with the closest view one could get, was an empty seat. Next to Farkle.

She didn’t really have to see the game, right? She could just _tell_ Zay that she had come. Zay and Lucas wouldn’t know otherwise.

But she would.

“Goddammit,” she muttered. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her denim jacket and stomped towards Farkle’s row. Thankfully, he sat at the very end so she didn’t have to squeeze past people on her way in.

The game hadn’t started yet but his eyes had set on the field, mouth quirked in a small smile. She followed his line of vision, all the way to the corner of the field, where the cheerleaders had crowded in a group discussion. It didn’t take long to find Riley. Riley was combing her hair together, readying it for a ponytail as she spoke. Even from this far, it was clear that Riley had all her cheerleader’s attention. She had to be giving a pep-talk. Was Riley their captain? Maya felt weird, not knowing for sure. And then she felt weird for watching Riley and watching Farkle watch his girlfriend.

She took in a deep breath. Reminded herself that Farkle was a lanky, science-loving dork. He wasn’t mean. He probably wouldn’t say no. If the two closest people in her life liked him so much, she had no problem with him.

She reached down, tapped his shoulder. “Hey. Are you saving the seat for anyone?”

He raised his head, eyes widening in recognition. “Hey, Maya.” He scooted over, paying no mind to the fact that his hip inadvertently pushed someone else’s backpack over. The girl to his left stopped talking to her friend to give him a pointed look but he didn’t notice. He gestured to the vacant seat. “Not at all.”

She gingerly slid into the spot next to him. She clamped her legs shut, knees pressed together, to keep from accidentally touching him. From the corner of her eye, she glanced at him. He wore the same black windbreaker from Zay’s kickback and a pair of sweatpants. He held his backpack in his lap, thumps looped through the straps. He looked out to the field again, that same smile on his face telling Maya he was definitely staring at Riley again. 

“You come to all the games Riley performs at?” 

Farkle blinked in surprise. He met Maya’s eyes briefly before his eyes dropped to his knees. His legs thumped against the bleachers, causing it to rattle. “I try. She’s amazing, isn’t she? I have no idea how she does it.”

Maya managed a nod. Her legs started to bounce in tandem with his. She told herself it was because of the chill of early October sweeping past her, but she wasn’t shivering. 

“What about you? You come to all of Lucas’ games?”

“Well, he just joined the team. I didn’t make it to last week’s.” And what the hell, since Farkle’s suddenly Lucas’ _best friend_ now — “You know? Because of that dumb fucking fight Lucas got into?”

“Yeah, I heard. You were there, right?”

If she closed her eyes, shut out every bit of noise from the band’s final notes to the buzz of conversation from the filled-out seats to the coaches yelling on the field, she could still hear it. Oliver’s taunts. The slam of his body against the set of lockers. Zay asking and Maya begging for Lucas to stop. Lucas’ fist against Oliver’s cheek. 

Now she really was shivering, goosebumps all over her arms. She wanted to burn those five minutes from her mind. Go back to last Friday and take a different route to the water fountain with Riley that day. The stupid thing was that if she had heard about Lucas getting into that fight, it wouldn’t have mattered. She probably wouldn’t have pushed him so much for details or been a fraction of angry as she was now. Seeing it up close, the fresh blood on his face, his hands gripping Oliver’s shoulders, the dark anger in his eyes — that changed everything. She wanted to go back. She couldn’t which only made her want it even more.

“I know it’s not any of my business but —”

Her teeth clenched. “It’s not.”

Farkle visibly winced. She hated the part of her that felt satisfied but not any more than she hated the upcoming and unwarranted advice he was about to give her. If he told her to just forgive Lucas, she would leave right then and there. She wanted so badly to forgive him. But she couldn’t, not without understanding him, and he refused to give her the chance.

“Well?” She pressed. “Go ahead. You have something to say.”

The marching band fell silent. Thunderous applause followed, cheers from every row. More lights came to life, brightening the entire field, lighting up Farkle’s pensive face. Across the field, the timer on the board began to count down. Its bright red numbers indicated five minutes until the game began. 

Farkle closed in on himself, grip on his backpack so tight his knuckles turned white. But he didn’t double-down. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. You’re both put into a really hard situation and it sucks. For what it’s worth, he seems to miss you a lot. Even if it doesn’t seem like it.”

“Well, that’s stupid.” But her voice wobbled, directly contradicting her words. Her vision blurred. She rapidly turned away from Farkle, redirecting her gaze out to the field. Abigail Adam’s team huddled in a circle, right below the bleachers, maybe ten feet away from where Farkle and Maya sat. Lucas’ height and the purple splotch on his face, stark against his skin and visible from where Maya was, made it easy to find him. Her throat clogged up. 

She hadn’t seen him in his football get-up before. He had his helmet in one hand, the other resting on Zay’s shoulder. With his shoulder pads, compression shorts, gloves, the million other protective wear he had on that she didn’t know the name of, and his player number on his chest — twenty, like his birthday in August — she couldn’t believe how well he fit in on the team. He looked so at ease. He buzzed with excitement, going up and down on his tiptoes while his coach spoke. She could just tell he’d be effortless on the field. 

And happy. He’d be really happy. 

“He’s so stupid,” she repeated, a shaky laugh crackling over voice. Then, quieter, softer than she thought she was capable of: “I miss him too.” 

Farkle didn’t hear her. Or maybe he pretended not to. Either way, she should probably stay quiet, let the silence between them expand until the game began. It would’ve saved her the embarrassment of having just said what she did.

So naturally, she spoke again anyway. 

She nudged his foot with hers. She kept her eyes on the field where the football team dispersed. Lucas and Zay jogged backwards, away from each other, only to run up and slap their chests together so hard that both boys went tumbling back. Their laughter reached Maya. She wouldn’t be surprised if everyone at the very top row of the bleachers heard them too. 

“Thanks, Farkle. I thought you were gonna say something dumb but you didn’t.”

“Thank you?” He didn’t stop fidgeting. His legs kept bouncing, faster than before, and he repeatedly smoothed his hands over his knees. But his slow smile didn’t seem nervous at all.

.

.

.

Football didn’t make sense.

Sure, Maya didn’t know the rules. But her principle was that if she couldn’t understand what was happening by just watching it, it was stupid. And she wouldn’t understand any of it if not for the crowd and Farkle.

She cheered when Farkle did. She clapped when everyone else did. And whenever Lucas and Zay did something that elicited either response, she jumped up to her feet to cheer and only got embarrassed about it after sitting down. 

She didn’t openly admit to not knowing how football worked. Farkle offered explanations anyway. Whether he did it for her sake or if it was some weird quirk of his, she didn’t know. But he would explain a move in terms she didn’t understand and end off with, “This is good” or “This is very bad” which helped immensely.

Even though she had no idea what was happening, she wasn’t bored. It was sort of pleasant. This togetherness everyone had. Wanting the same victory, rooting for the same players, all experiencing the same rush. She didn’t care about school spirit or even the team, outside of two of their members, but the huge turnout made a little more sense now. 

Soon enough, half-time rolled around, and _wow._

Maya knew, okay? Cheerleading was a sport. Those girls were strong, elegant hard-workers, the centrepiece of any and all games. They practiced all year, much longer than any of these boys with their single season. To be a cheerleader was to be impressive.

Colour Maya impressed. Cheerleaders already had her respect but now they officially had her admiration.

“How the fuck do they jump so high?” Maya couldn’t pick up her jaw from the floor, stunned by their routine and the synchrony in which they moved. Pom-poms in the air, smiles on, voices blending into one with their chant. Their movements were art except art couldn’t be this graceful. 

“No idea,” Farkle said, full of awe. “She’s incredible.”

Incredible didn’t do her justice. Maya understood why he used the word, though. It wasn’t like anything else would suffice. 

Riley wasn’t at the top of the pyramid nor was she the cheerleader at the very front, both of which were, unfortunately, Missy, but she stood out all the same. 

“How’s Riley so flexible?” Maya remarked. “Like. How did she — she just did the _splits._ She didn’t even stop smiling. My legs hurt from looking at her. I can’t even do that. And that back-flip! _How_!” She repeatedly thwacked his arm as if he wasn’t also paying attention to the cheerleading routine. 

“She’s magic,” he explained, before cupping his hands around his mouth, cheering out Riley’s name. 

All the applause, the _oohs_ and _aahs_ of wonder, every single eye on the squad performing — it all had to be for Riley. It just had to. Nothing against the rest of the girls. They were all amazing but Riley shone brightest. 

As soon as the choreography ended and after the cheerleaders bowed, Riley threw her pom-poms up into the air. She raced towards Missy. Missy arms opened just in time for Riley to run into them, nearly knocking Missy over in a bone-crushing hug. They clung to each other, giggling into each other’s necks before the rest of the squad surrounded them in a massive group-hug.

Maya couldn’t describe what it was about Riley’s performance that took her breath away. Just that it did. 

“Magic,” Maya said finally. “That’s exactly what it is.” 

An hour later, Abigail Adams’ Patriots won against — okay, Maya had no idea who this other team was. Not that it mattered anyway, because Zay and Lucas _won_.

Maya and Farkle didn’t exchange words. There wasn’t a point with how much broke over the field. Their school song blared over the speakers at a volume that no one wanted. The bleachers had mostly emptied out, all the parents having left to the parking lot while the rest of their classmates filled the field. As grating as it was for her ears, she found all the excitement in the air a little endearing.

Maya and Farkle high-fived instead, hard enough that he winced. She tilted her head at the field, toward the team, the cheerleaders, and other classmates who hopped down to join them. He nodded and led her there.

From there, they split up. She should have thanked him. For the seat. The company. The explanations of a game that would never make sense to her. But it was easier to let him jog off towards his girlfriend. Maybe she’d thank him in next week’s English class.

Farkle headed straight for Riley. Her back faced him as she spoke in deep conversation with Missy. But as if she felt his presence, because without him calling her name, she turned around. She shrieked and tackled Farkle into a fierce hug, her uniform a blur of red as he gave her a little spin. Her fingers yanked the ribbon from her ponytail, allowing her hair to fall down her shoulders, and it was then, as Farkle leaned in for a kiss, that Maya couldn’t stare any longer.

Maya faced the opposite way, taking in the packed field instead. Teachers tried and failed to usher students out of the field. The football members spread out, basking in their victory. They all looked vaguely the same in their matching helmets and uniforms. Should she even look for Lucas? Would a congratulations text to both him and Zay suffice? 

No. She wasn’t a coward. She wouldn’t run away from this. Being mad at and proud of Lucas weren’t mutually exclusive. She came to see them win

She marched across the field, towards the benches where a handful of dead-tired players laid out. They could direct her to Lucas and Zay.

But halfway down, a gentle hand tapped her shoulder. If it were anyone else, she would have scowled and jerked away, but it wasn’t. She could recognize him by touch alone. As disconcerting as that realization may have been, the state of his face was worse.

A week hadn’t done much for the bruise around Lucas’ eye. Slowly fading purple that discoloured his face, bad enough that she noticed it before any of his football gear or how out of breath he was. “You came.”

“You still look like shit.” She swept her thumb across his bruise and winced when he did. “Sorry.” 

Lucas stiffened. His cheek twitched but he didn’t object. “I guess I deserve that, huh?” He attempted a smile and in his football get-up, thick shoulder-pads, bright red jersey, and cleats, it became impossible not to smile back. 

“You do.”

“But you came anyway.”

“I did.” She kicked at the grass, hoping she hadn’t imagined the relief in his voice. “Sat next to your friend. Minkus?”

His smile lifted, lost all tightness. “Well, I talked to your new friend today too. Before the game. Matthews?”

“... The teacher or the cheerleader?”

“Cheerleader. It wasn’t really a conversation, I mean, she wished me luck, told me I’d have a good luck charm today. I thought she just meant the cheerleaders, but I get it now.” Before she could fully register that and the warmth it struck her with, he added, “I’m sorry for everything, okay? I know I fucked up so if you want me to explain, then let’s go. Right now. My Jeep’s in the lot.”

Maya balled her hands back into her pockets to keep from doing something stupid like hug him. His earnestness made it hard not to but she held her ground. “You’re definitely explaining everything to me. But not now.” She tipped her chin at Zay, who dashed across the field towards them. “You have a win to celebrate. Congrats, quarterback.”

He ducked his head, tugging the ends of his wrinkled jersey. “Eh, I didn't do too much. Team’s great and besides, I had my good luck charm.”

“You’re so cheesy. And you’re so annoying, could you please just accept a compliment? Especially when you’ve actually earned it?”

Zay reached them with a hoarse call of “Maya!” His cleats skidded against the grass as he came to a sudden stop. He panted so hard he bent over, clutching his knees to keep from falling over. “You came!” 

She stifled another ridiculous urge to hug a sweaty football player. “Of course I did! Dude, you were amazing. Congrats on winning!”

Zay raised his fist up at Lucas who bumped it without looking. “We make a helluva team, huh?”

“Hell yeah.” With a grin, Lucas helped Zay up and patted him on the back. “What’s the plan?”

“After we hit the locker-rooms and change, we’re gonna go to Matsuda. You know, that sushi place? Apparently they won’t card us so we’re gonna confirm that theory.” 

“How terribly negligent,” Lucas said cheerily. “Maya, you should come. If you want.”

“Eating with the entire football team, high off their own ego and drinking the night away?” She raised her eyebrows. “Hard pass. But it’s fine. Tonight’s your night, not mine. You two have fun.”

“You have a ride?” Zay’s narrowed eyes flitted between her and Lucas quickly. She couldn’t exactly clarify anything right now. She didn’t even know if there was anything to clarify. Her anger with Lucas wasn’t explosive, but a spark still lingered, one she couldn’t let go of until he delivered the explanation he’d promised. He looked suspicious but he was the best, so he didn’t say anything outright about it.

“Yup,” she lied. “I’ll text you when I get home.” 

He seemed to understand what that meant. That she’d text him an update. Even though she guaranteed that Lucas would tell Zay as soon as Maya left, she wanted him to hear it from her too. _He’d_ gotten her here in the first place. He deserved a lot and the least she could do was provide an update. Even if it wasn’t much of one.

“Thanks again for coming,” Lucas said. “We’re glad you came.”

A gust of wind passed. One by one, the floodlights turned off, slowly swallowing the field into darkness. The coach’s whistle screeched along with his demand they all leave soon. None of them moved a muscle.

Maya pulled her hoodie over her head. Her phone vibrated but she didn’t look away from either boy. “I’m glad too.” 

.

.

.

About twenty minutes later, Katy pulled up to the front of the high school. 

Maya jumped up from the bench. Sprinted towards Katy’s car. Hopped into the passenger seat. “Thanks.” 

“When I texted you asking where you were, I did not expect you to be at school.” As Maya fumbled in the dark with her seatbelt, Katy peered out Maya’s window. “What was tonight? Did you have a dance?”

“Yes, mom, I wore tights and this jacket with paint all over it to a dance.”

“Good choice. You look very nice, honey.”

“Are you joking?”

“About you looking nice? Absolutely not. But about the dance, then, yes. Obviously. You’ve gotta give me more credit. I can make jokes too!”

Maya didn’t know if it was her exhaustion from such a long Friday or not but she laughed. She reclined her seat, dropped her backpack to her feet, and leaned back. Her hands tucked underneath her cheek, she took in the sight of Katy. She hadn’t seen her since yesterday morning.

In the moonlight, Katy’s face appeared softer. No dark bags, lines of exhaustion, crinkles in her forehead. Nothing but a rare, quiet peace. It settled something inside of Maya. “What was it then, hon?”

“Believe it or not, a football game.”

Katy hummed as she drove out of the school. One hand on the wheel, the other shot out to fidget with the radio. Billy Joel came on. Maya had fuzzy memories of early Sundays in the years following her father leaving. Katy awake, early in the morning, playing old music as she cleaned the apartment. Maya would wake up hours later, offer to help, but Katy told her not to worry. That she’d make Maya help when she was older. (Which she did, once Maya got to middle school.) 

Maya couldn’t remember the name of the song. But she remembered it from Katy’s playlist, so she raised the volume. 

“How was the game?” Katy asked. 

“Good.” Maya rubbed her eyes, fighting off a yawn. With the fuzziness in her vision, the only specks of light coming from the streetlights they passed and their headlights, the exhaustion of the day caught up with her. She refused to fall asleep now. Not with ten minutes remaining until they reached their apartment. Especially not with Katy’s odd interest in her day. 

This had to be Katy’s halfhearted attempt at making up for their disastrous guidance appointment, but honestly? Maya didn’t mind as much as she wanted to. She didn’t mind at all. “I don’t know how football works, but it was entertaining, I guess.”

“Aw, that’s nice, baby. It’s good to go to all these school events in your senior year and enjoy everything that’s left. But I didn’t know you were one for school spirit.” 

“I’m really not. But two of my friends are on the football team.” She paused, thought it over. It was easier to say this in the dark, to tell only her mother, to quietly hope to herself that it was true. “And I have another friend on the cheerleading team.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact! i based maya's art class - the teacher, the tea, its open door to any and all students, and the sort of safe place it is for maya - on my high school's art class. never took the course, but man, that room welcomed me with open arms. 
> 
> i will reply back to the lovely comments on the previous chapter very soon! i appreciate y'all SO much! please take care of yourselves!! i love you! see you soon!!! 💓💖💞


	11. Chapter 11

[Maya]: hey. just wanted to say that you were pretty amazing last night. sure, the football guys won the game or whatever but you and the rest of the cheerleaders stole the show. no, you guys WERE the show

“Too much,” Maya grumbled through a mouthful of mint toothpaste. Frustrated, she continued to pace her washroom. Her right hand limply pushed her toothbrush back and forth in her mouth while the other gripped her phone. Her thumb hovered over her phone’s keyboard. 

Maya Hart didn’t hesitate. She did things impulsively, listened to whatever instincts inhabited her at any given moment. She rushed into things, headstrong, steadfast, never paralyzed by indecisiveness or uncertainty. She just did things and dealt with — or ignored, mostly ignored — the consequences later. 

But she also never went to football games solo. She never voluntarily sat with someone she barely knew whose name she couldn’t repeat with a straight face, certainly not when she had the option to sit alone. She never went to class on time. She never got into fights with Lucas because she needed him to care about himself more. She never stayed up through the night, talking about dumb things like her feelings and romance on a phone-call with a bubbly cheerleader who wasn’t as terrible as she once thought. Who wasn’t terrible at all. Who was a great history partner, a magical cheerleader, a —

The point. What was the point again?

Right. The point was that all bets were off. There was no point in relying on what she had or hadn’t done before when nothing about her life right now and what this school year had thrown at her fit any of what she was familiar with. Things had annoyingly changed. Maybe she had too. 

All Maya knew for sure was that the version of herself from the beginning of the school year, only five weeks ago, sure as hell wouldn’t recognize her right now — awake at 8:29 AM on a Saturday, pacing her bathroom, continuously typing and deleting text messages to Riley to the distant sounds of Katy’s shriek-laughter, on the phone with Sheila from the diner.

Maya couldn’t decide if not recognizing herself was a good thing or not. It had been only a little over a month. A short enough time that if she turned around and stretched back, she could just reach her past, not-so-distant self by the fingertips. But long enough, too, that Maya doubted that she would recognize that person either. 

What Maya could decide, though, was that this was ridiculous. She and Riley were probably, sort of, more likely than not, in some way, _friends_. Friends texted nice things to each other. Last night, right before she knocked out, she texted Zay a quick “congratz again the win, NFL star” with a tentative second message of “hope you and friar are having fun.” 

(The first thing she did upon waking up this morning was open the text Zay had sent. He sent a picture of him and Lucas. Cheeks squished together, noses scrunched up, foreheads creased in identical glares that would be at least a little threatening if not for the fact that they joined their forefingers and thumbs into one heart. No caption was needed. Maya already knew their tiny heart was supposed to be her. It meant that a ‘Hart’ was still with them. From the shoddy lighting and a booth behind them, she figured this was taken at their celebratory dinner with the rest of their team. 

Despite how messy everything was, how Maya both needed and dreaded Lucas the idea of telling her everything, they could still never go back to how things used to be — she warmed at the selfie. It confirmed everything her mind now knew, but her heart had trouble fully comprehending. Zay and Lucas were still dorks. Zay hadn’t picked sides and left her behind. Lucas trusted her, really cared, still wanted her in his life.

And it may or may not have been what inspired Maya to send something sort of nice to Riley too. Not that that was a big deal or anything.)

Texting Riley would be no different than texting Zay. If she sent Zay a nice unprompted message, she could do the same to Riley. Besides, after their impromptu phone-call last Sunday, how out of line would a message be? 

She just wanted to tell Riley that she was a good cheerleader and did really well last night. After spilling her guts about Lucas and her dumb feelings and love — oh god, nope, too painful to even recall. She really talked about all of that with Riley? And _still_ hesitated over sending her what wasn’t even a compliment but a fact?

Sure, she was kind of different now. Sure, if this was how much one month had changed her, she had the next nine, long months left to become even more of a disastrous disaster, which. Wow. Terrifying! 

Despite all of this, she was still herself. If she tried hard enough, made the choice herself, some things would never change. She’d never hesitated before and right here, she decided that she wouldn’t start now.

Her pacing came to a halt. She stopped in front of her sink. The same message from before, typed out to Riley, lit up on her screen. She didn’t let herself read it over. 

“Fuck it.” Maya hit send. As soon as the message delivered, her phone became hot lava — she couldn’t hold it a second longer, near-whipping it onto the counter. It almost knocked over the bottle of hand soap. Keyword: _almost._

She spat out her toothpaste. Rinsed her mouth, once, twice. Splashed her face with water. Even then, she still felt antsy, leftover anxiety from all that overthinking. At least she was more awake now than she was when she woke up fifteen minutes ago. 

For whatever reason, Katy decided to vacuum on a Saturday morning. She had the entire weekend, plus the following Monday, off from work which begged the question as to why she would spend her first bit of free time cleaning. Especially when Maya had vacuumed the carpets earlier this week and did an _exceptional_ job, thank you very much.

The incessant drone of the vacuum woke Maya up. Upon realizing she couldn’t fall back asleep, she wanted to whine, complain to Katy for waking her up, but … 

But nothing. She wanted to but she didn’t. Katy had picked her up last night, asked her earnestly about her day and the game. That fixed absolutely nothing but neither would bitching at her mother who spent the entire week working terrible hours and just wanted clean carpets. 

She should’ve seen it coming that as soon as she dragged herself out of bed, the vacuuming stopped. The universe was funny (and extremely fucking rude) that way. But Maya was already up and already considering reaching out to Riley, so she had lumbered into her bathroom anyway.

Now, as she wiped her face dry with her towel, mornings didn’t seem as bad. They were still one of the worst things about existence, don’t get her wrong. But they weren’t _the_ worst thing. Eight am on a Saturday wasn’t so awful.

She grabbed her phone and left the bathroom. Another round of Katy’s laughter bounced through the apartment, crackling and scratchy. It made Maya look up from her phone, initially out of alarm because her mother’s cackles momentarily seemed like screams. Though once it sunk in, Maya couldn’t help but stop. Leaned against the wall outside their bathroom. And listened to note after note of her mother’s laughter.

“I know, Sheila!” Another cackle. “What a dick. How dare he be both an idiot _and_ an asshole.”

Maya bit her growing half-smile. She shook her head, forced her attention back to another text she needed to send. It didn’t take long to find Lucas’ number.

**Last Friday**

[Fuckboy Friar]: But I swear the dumb shit Oliver was saying has nothing to do with the fight it doesnt matter okay it really doesnt

**Today, 2:12 AM**

[Fuckboy Friar]: Thanks again for coming out tonight. Glad you got to know Farkle a little better and I hope you had fun  
[Fuckboy Friar]: Ill explain anything and everything you wanna know. I have work all weekend but I can change shifts and we can talk  
[Fuckboy Friar]: Im gonna make this right by you

They’d only been fighting for a week, and she had just seen him last night, but she had no idea what to do with how much she missed him. Well, no idea save for one.

[Maya]: can’t believe i’m saying this but someone named farkle minkus is kind of cool, i guess. it wasn’t bad   
[Maya]: you have nothing to make up for, okay? you apologized and i know you meant it so that was enough  
[Maya]: i just want to know what’s going on i want an explanation i want to understand but  
[Maya]: but only if you’re ready

Once her phone chimed, alerting that her messages had gone through, the fog in her mind cleared. A spark of warmth flared inside her. It was small. Not more than a flicker of feeling. But it was enough for her to tuck her phone into her chest and smile giddily to herself. 

Was this what making the right call felt like? Strange.

The moment she tried to pretend like that didn’t happen and walk into the kitchen, her phone buzzed. 

Had Lucas already responded?

With her feet glued to the newly-cleaned carpet, she couldn’t bring herself to move. Her heart raced. She needed coffee for this. Lots and lots of coffee. 

But, for the first and only time in her life, caffeine had to wait because _this_ couldn’t.

Only it wasn’t Lucas who replied.

[Riley]: Hey! :) thank you SO much!!!!! i’m glad you had a nice time at the game. Farkle told me he sat with you? 

Underneath her message were three horrifying dots. Riley was still typing. She had _more_ to say.

Later, after coffee and breakfast and more overthinking, Maya would feel proud of herself. She handled that notification from Riley pretty well. 

Or, more accurately, she could’ve handled it much worse.

Sure, her phone fell out of her hand. Yes, it landed on her foot. And fine, she cried out and swore profusely, earning Katy’s sharp cry of, “Honey! _What happened_!?”

But there had to be an accomplishment in there somewhere and she was claiming it.

.

.

.

Maya didn’t read the rest of Riley’s messages until ten minutes later. 

She had to explain to Katy that she’d only stubbed her toe (much less embarrassing than the truth) and she was fine, really. She also had to endure Katy’s shock that Maya was awake so early — as if the entire building wasn’t already long awake because of Katy — and the near pleasant surprise of coffee and toast already ready. 

But Riley’s texts, once she found enough courage to read them all, came one after the other, all in the span of a minute.

  
_Not to say I told you so, but I told you so. Farkle IS cool and he IS the best and I’ll happily tell him you agree with me on that. :)_ _  
_ _did Lucas see you??? Is everything okay with you guys now????_ _  
_ _Not to pry! you totally don’t have to answer! feel free to ignore that I just really hope everything’s good now_ _  
_ _Okay yikes I’ve sent you way too many texts but one last one and I’ll stop I promise_ _  
_ _I’m glad you came to the game!!!!!! what did you think?_ _  
_ _Ok I lied one MORE message which is you’re absolutely right, screw the team, games are nothing without cheerleaders, we are the backbone of high school sports and society, and I feel very validated_ _  
_ _Hope you have a good Saturday!!!!!!!_

Maya read them over her second cup of coffee. Another spark of warmth, much like the one from earlier only bigger and brighter, lit her up from the inside. This time, she didn’t hesitate at all in her text.

[Maya]: fine i’ll admit it. your boyfriend isn’t all that bad. i still can’t get myself to say his name out loud though   
[Maya]: and dw, youre not prying. we chatted a little, gonna have a private talk soon and hopefully make everything good then   
[Maya]: he did tell me a certain cheerleader told him he’d have his own lucky charm out in the stands while he played. i wonder who that could be?  
[Maya]: the game was okay. the guys were pretty good i guess but i was paying attention to only two of them anyway. your bf was kinda a lifesaver he explained what was happening in the game bc i had no fucking clue otherwise   
[Maya]: but obviously the best part of the game was you  
[Maya]: like  
[Maya]: you and the cheerleaders  
[Maya]: all the cheerleaders  
[Maya]: speaking of do you guys actually care about the sports? outside of like supporting the team obviously but outside of cheerleading and as an actual person are you really THAT emotionally invested in football and whatever our school plays  
[Maya]: hope your saturdays good too. 

.

.

.

Her texting Riley may or may not have become a Thing.

At first, it was just about the game until it suddenly … wasn’t. They just kept talking a bout nothing in particular. Classes. Riley’s insistence that she never skipped a single one and Maya vehemently not believing her. Their opinions on _Riverdale_ (Maya deemed it irredeemable trash while Riley argued it was delightful trash instead). Monday’s history quiz. Unfortunately, Riley did not agree to look through her dad’s things for the quiz’s answers. She did have enough faith in Maya to think she was joking, though, and Maya didn’t want to shatter that high, unearned perception.

Maya wasn’t much of a texter but it was different with Riley. Riley kept the conversation flowing, asked questions, shared lots of thoughts, left no part of Maya’s texts unacknowledged. 

It made sense. In person, Riley was loud. Talkative. Had a lot to say and made sure she went heard. She was all of that but still, somehow, a good listener. Maya had already known this before without _really_ knowing it. Texting her continuously through the weekend confirmed it.

It made sense, and yet — 

That was most confusing of all.

.

.

.

Monday morning, as it often did, came much faster than appreciated and completely unwanted.

Maya’s stomach was in knots. Partly because of their history quiz (a quiz shouldn’t take up the entire period, so why was Matthews giving them the _entire period_ for it!?).

Partly because her and Lucas’ talk had been indefinitely postponed. Lucas swore to her over text that he was ready, that he wanted to tell her everything but asked for her patience in finding the right time which couldn’t be that weekend. (A result of Lucas working both days, his shifts smack dab in the middle of the day, neither of their apartments available with both Katy and Jo home and Maya wanting to study for Matthews’ quiz and catch up on _Brave New World._ Was Lucas’ initial disbelief at this warranted? Yes. Was she still offended? Also yes.) 

And partly — who were we kidding, mostly, definitely mostly — because Maya had this nagging thought. What if her texting Riley over the weekend made things weird? Ruined the easy air between them, built over the past few weeks, still fragile and new? What if, when she plopped into her seat behind Riley, it would suddenly be different between them? And what if Riley wouldn’t be so … Riley?

She was aware that it was stupid to fret over things changing. Things had already changed with no regard for if she wanted them to or not. So what if she had stupid butterflies in her stomach? It didn’t matter. She _knew_ it didn’t matter.

And yet those dumb butterflies kept fluttering and her palms got all sweaty and every step closer to the history classroom blurred the line between anxiety and excitement until she couldn’t tell what she was feeling, as if she ever had an idea from the start —

At least Riley wouldn’t be here until right before class started. Maya timed it to her advantage. Since Katy had the day off, she gave Maya a ride to school. Even weirder than that, when Maya told Katy when they needed to leave in the morning, Katy was actually on time. 

She made it with twenty minutes to spare as planned. That gave her enough time to do last-minute studying for the quiz and subsequently quit freaking out about Riley and Lucas and whether she would still sit in the art room today, none of which even touched the concerns of something far worse and dangerously looming. The ‘c’ word.

_College._

Maya had no idea long she could realistically avoid thinking about college without having it blow up in her face. She knew ignoring the inevitable was useless and that if she wanted a shot at college, she would have to actually _do_ something about it instead of ignoring it. But better than that, she knew how to avoid her responsibilities and deal with it later, possibly even never — thanks, dad! — so for the time being, she would have to put a pin in it. Truly, it was for her wellbeing. She would revisit it. Later. Much later. Only when she absolutely had to. 

Right now, her most pressing concern? Her upcoming quiz. 

Head held high, history binder tucked to her chest, and a touch of confidence in her stride, she marched into the classroom. Her eyes automatically flew to a certain seat. One that was supposed to be empty.

“Riley?” Maya sputtered out her name before her mind fully registered Riley’s presence. Even then, with a concentrated effort, her stride didn’t falter. She ambled towards her seat, head tilted to the side. “Don’t you have practice or something?”

Riley didn’t have her cheerleading uniform on today. That couldn’t count for much, though, considering she wore her letterman jacket instead. Same vibrant red as her uniform. Black stripes on her cuffs with the black lettering of “AAHS” below Riley’s shoulder to match. The material looked soft. Maya had just enough restraint not to find out herself. Underneath her jacket, she donned a yellow floral-patterned top. With her hair let down, plastic pink-hearts dangling from her ears, and her usual clean, strawberry scent, Maya forgot to feel nervous. She forgot to feel like anything but herself.

“It ended early.” Riley shifted, sitting backwards in her seat, and faced Maya. She propped her elbow up on the back of her chair and mirrored Maya with a head-tilt of her own. “How’d you know?”

“Oh, well. I just .. noticed.” Maya dropped into her seat. Backpack by her feet, binder discarded on her desk, immediately forgotten. “Past few Mondays you’ve come to class right before the bell in your little cheerleading costume.” 

“Costume?” From anyone else, it would’ve been loud but for Riley, it was just her regular volume. Maya half-wondered when her ears got adjusted to that but before she could dwell on that thought, Riley smiled, coy. “Funny. Do cheerleaders steal shows in costumes or uniforms?”

Maya should’ve seen this coming. Despite how she flushed, her next breath stuttering out, she didn’t shy away. She met Riley’s eyes, the rich brown illuminated and alive, impossible to replicate on paper. Doubtful, though, that it could stop Maya from trying. “That doesn’t even make sense. We both know you can do better than that, Matthews. You have before.”

“Don’t care, Hart.” Riley wagged a finger in front of Maya’s face. She narrowly missed hitting Maya’s nose. “You went out of your way to say a nice thing to me.”

“I didn’t go out of my way. I already had your number.”

“You showered me with _praise._ ”

“Good to know that you’re always this dramatic, I really had been wondering if it was in select moments or —”

“You said we stole the show. You wanted me to know that I did good.” While Riley’s voice dropped to a near whisper, her smile only grew wider. 

“Since I’m already never living this down, I might as well say fuck it and correct you anyway.” Maya probably should’ve glanced around the room. Check how many classmates had arrived. If anyone, especially Matthews, was listening. Then again, she probably shouldn’t have texted Riley in the first place and probably should’ve been studying right now but like she said — fuck that, right? “You weren’t just good. It’s like I couldn’t look away, you know? You were just that amazing. _That’s_ what I wanted you to know.”

Riley’s lips parted. No sound came out. At first glance, it appeared like her smile faded but from this close, Maya saw that it had gone to her eyes instead. “Oh. Thanks. But what can I say? I have an amazing team of strong and fierce girls.”

“Definitely,” Maya said. “But they’re not why you’re great. You’re the reason why. Just to clarify. I’m sure that was self-explanatory but just in — what?” Maya gestured to Riley’s face. She came dangerously close to almost touching Riley’s hair but managed to snatch her hands away before that disaster could happen. “What’s that look on your face? Quit it.”

“Let me have my look, would you?” Riley tipped her chin up with her fist. Her earrings swayed, pink hearts glinting underneath the classroom’s lighting. “You really think that?”

“You think I’m lying?” 

“Not at all.”

“Then? Is it really that hard to believe that you’re amazing at what you do? Or is it just that it’s coming from me?”

“I know I’m good, I guess, but there’s still that difference between knowing it and being confident in it, you know?”

“Yeah, but. You’re _you_. I find it hard to believe you’re not confident about anything.”

Riley let out a shocked laugh. “Really?”

“Yes, really. I get it, okay, insecurity leaves no man behind, but I mean everything I say. And I meant all of that. Don’t make fun of me for it,” she tried to joke.

“I would never,” Riley said, and yeah, maybe she was joking back. Maya believed her all the same. “Thank you, Maya.”

Maya cracked a smile. “You’re welcome, Riley. And while I’m at it, I also, uh, really like your earrings. The glitter especially.”

Riley touched the back of one earring, thumb hooked behind the heart. “Do you want a pair? I can get you one.”

“What? No. Don’t spend money on _me_.”

“I wouldn’t be spending money.” Riley tapped her earring before she let it go. She ducked her head and pulled the sleeves of her jacket over her hands. “I made it.”

“No fucking way.” Maya lit up, peering closer at Riley’s earrings. “Are you serious?”

“You think I’m lying?” Riley parroted back only to promptly answer with, “It’s not something I’m really serious about.”

“You’re serious about everything.”

“It’s just something I do. When I’m bored, restless, anxious or just need something to do with my hands. It’s kinda grounding? Brings me back to myself when — ” For a fraction of a second, Riley’s expression flicked. Her eyes dimmed, warm brown freezing over. “When things get …” 

“Big and terrifying?” Maya tried for a smile, hoping she hadn’t just made a massive mistake. She wanted it to say, _I get it._ To show that she acknowledged Riley, that she saw her, that she didn’t understand it but it was understandable. All with three words, ones that weren’t even her own but Riley’s from their phone-call last week. 

It was like Maya had tossed a coin into the air. Now she had to wait an unbearably slow few seconds for it to land and tell her her fate. Heads, she made the right call. Tails, this was further proof she was an idiot who had no idea how to comfort people and she would have been that asshole that worsened the mood of the human form of sunshine, Riley Matthews.

Riley heaved a long breath. There, in the twitch of her lips, her index finger trailing along the golden sunflower pendant, the flicker of light back into her eyes. Maya knew then, before Riley even spoke, that for once, she had done something right. Something good.

“Exactly.” Riley’s smile returned in full-force, blinding in its light. “It’s very soothing. I have to give myself permission to be bad at it, though. I’m no artist, not like you —” 

“I’m not an artist,” Maya interjected. 

“Right. Because artists don’t doodle all the time, have paint all over their clothes —” Riley reached forward, insistent fingers jabbing into the splotches of orange on the left sleeve of Maya’s denim jacket, right below her elbow. “Or are enrolled in an art class and eat lunch _in_ an art classroom.”

“I’m not an artist,” Maya said but repeating the words and hearing Riley’s uncertainty just made her less sure. “Well, if I’m an artist then so are you. What do you call someone who makes _jewelry_?” If Riley got to touch along Maya’s elbow then Maya was totally justified in rising from her seat, stretching her arm out, and flicking Riley’s earring. 

“A jeweller!” Riley batted Maya’s hand away. “And barely one at that. I only know because my uncle’s sister apparently had this really big crafts phase as a kid so he knows how to make earrings and bracelets and other stuff like that. My dad makes fun of him for being awkward with kids but I think it’s cute that his way of hanging out with a four-year-old was buying me a kit and teaching me to make jewelry. You know?”

“Hold on.” Maya’s brain buffered. She pictured a remixed Matthews sitting with Riley at a small, pink, and plastic table. Him squeezed into a tiny chair, ridiculously overgrown while a young Riley sat next to him, beads in her tiny fingers. It was frustratingly cute. “Your uncle’s sister? So your … aunt?”

“She’s his half-sister.”

“Oh,” Maya said, as if that didn’t confuse her even more. “So your uncle taught you how to make jewelry and now it’s a hobby for you? And it’s mostly because it has, like, sentimental value to you and it calms you down?”

“You do get it!”

“I do. Huh. That’s really adorable.” 

“My Uncle Jack really _is_ adorable. I tell him that but he thinks I’m joking.”

“I meant you,” Maya blured out. “What I mean is … what I _meant_ is …”

“You think I’m adorable.”

“Please stop.”

“And you think I’m an amazing cheerleader.”

“I said _please,_ how can you ignore my please like that?”

Riley smirked. She sat back, hands tucked into her jacket’s pockets. Even her pointed silence was too much. Maya was officially at a point of no return. She had spent all weekend studying for this stupid quiz and texting Riley. She had come to first-period history twenty minutes early. On a _Monday._ And now, under Riley’s gaze, she grew more and more flustered by the second. She did this to herself. There was nothing left to do but accept her fate. 

“You like me,” Riley said finally.

“Guilty as charged.” From underneath her desk, Maya bumped her foot against Riley’s. Gentle in a way she wasn’t, she added, “But I know your secret. You like me too.”

Riley’s eyebrows furrowed. She frowned and Maya wondered how she always found a way to say the wrong thing until Riley spoke. “Why would it be a secret?” 

For the first time in Maya’s life, she was happy that the bell rang and commenced class. As the last note of the bell sounded, Matthews rushed into the room. Nearly tripping up to his desk, he held up a stack of papers. “Whew! Sorry I was almost late there, everybody. Had to print out your quizzes.” 

“If it’s a quiz,” Maya said loudly, heart pounding for multiple reasons, “then why is that stack so thick?”

Riley spun back to face the front of the classroom. “He likes to leave us a lot of space for our answers. Even though he’s killing trees.” 

“Riley.” Matthews sighed, dropping the stack of quizzes onto his desk. Its resounding _thud_ left Maya with no choice but to side with Riley. “Can you just.”

“No, I can’t _just._ ” 

“You should just skip today’s quiz,” Charlie piped up from the back. “As penance.”

“Agreed.”

“Totally.”

“Do it for the environment!” 

Maya loved her classmates. So. Much.

More cries for the quiz’s cancellation broke out. It only got louder when Zay dashed inside, out of breath, duffel slung over his back, a stack of binders with his biology textbook on top held loosely in his hands. “What’s going on?”

Maya tipped her head at Zay in greeting. “We’re protesting today’s quiz.”

“Sweet.” Zay shuffled toward his seat. “Mr. Matthews, it’s unfair to make us write a quiz when it’s National Frappe Day —”

“We’re doing it for the environment,” Riley whisper-shouted.

“Oh. Then it’s not fair for the environ —”

“Guys!” Matthews shook his head incredulously, laughing as he looked over all of his students. “I admire and strongly encourage your passion for the environment but it’s seriously misplaced right now. I promise you, me assigning quizzes is not contributing to deforestation.”

Maya raised her hand. “I don’t believe you.”

“That’s okay. But today we’re both doing things we don’t wanna. While you guys write today’s quiz, I’ll be grading the two-paged papers you submitted last week, tearing Manifest Destiny to shreds. We’ll all be suffering, but we’ll be doing it together.”

“Dad,” Riley said. “Don’t you love me?”

“Yeah, don’t you love your daughter?”

“Do it for her!”

“What kind of father doesn’t love their kid, man?”

Maya muffled her giggles into the back of her hand. She was surrounded by her people.

“Of course I love you, Riley,” Matthews said. “And I’m fond of every single one of you. But this quiz has gotta happen. I promise you, it’s easy and you’ll all do great. End of discussion. It’s okay if you’re afraid, guys.” He stepped away from his seat and began handing out the quizzes. One pile to the first student in each column to pass along. “But don’t let it stop you from doing great.” 

He stepped in front of Riley. His smile gleamed as it rested on her. “I’ll be telling your parents about this. You know that, right?”

“And you know they’ll side with me, right?” Riley hummed, accepting the pile he gave her. “I love you too, Dad.” 

The twinkle in Matthews’ eyes didn’t falter as he looked past Riley to Maya. “I’m surprised you didn’t partake in the cries against the quiz.”

Riley looked over her shoulder at Maya. Her hint of a smile made Maya’s grow and stretch across her face. 

“I didn’t join because I respect you, Mr. Matthews. And also because if I had, we would’ve won. There would’ve been no quiz at all and that’d suck for you.” 

Matthews shook his head, equal parts exasperated and amused. He walked away to the next column of seats and continued distributing his quizzes.

Riley began to turn back, her faint chuckle music to Maya’s ears. A stab of panic made Maya tap her shoulder before Riley could turn fully.

“Nice work there. Pulling the environment card and the daughter card? Excellent combination.”

Riley turned back around and grinned mischievously. Maya felt victorious. “You’ve inspired me.”

“I’ve inspired you into giving your dad shit and making his job harder? That’s terrible. I’m touched.”

Riley laughed until she snorted. Another note of music that Maya wanted to bring out again and again and again. “Oh, he likes the challenge. And he’s stuck with me, so he can’t complain.”

“C’mon, what would he have to complain about, having a kid like —”

“Riley? Maya? Can you guys stop whatever … whatever _this_ is and pass the rest of the quizzes please?”

Maya glanced over her shoulder at her classmate directly behind her. Jack or John. Something with a ‘J’. Probably. She wished he sounded more like an asshole, that his embarrassed smile wasn’t genuine, that his request wasn’t warranted. 

Maya tried not to grimace. “My bad, dude. Right on that.” 

When she faced Riley again, Riley smiled apologetically at the boy. “Sorry, Jason!” 

For a split-second, as Maya took the stack from Riley, their fingers touched. Barely even grazed. Even then, Maya nearly dropped the papers all over the floor. She stole another second of Jason and the other classmates down their column’s quiz-time but she needed it. Needed a moment for herself, to think, _holy shit. What was that?_

Maya tried to catch Riley’s eyes but Riley sat properly in her seat. Facing the front, back to Maya’s, hunched over her quiz. 

Maya didn’t even know what she’d felt. Just that she’d felt _something_. Had Riley not felt that too?

“Maya?”

Maya hastily left a quiz on her desk and passed the rest to Jason. “Sorry, Jason.”

Jason smiled again, painfully sweet. Almost understanding. “Hey, it’s okay. I get it.” She had no idea what that meant. It brought her comfort anyway.

.

.

.

The strangest thing about Maya’s decision to actually participate in school and at least kind of try outside of the fact that she’d made this choice at all? 

The weeks went by so much faster. In the blink of an eye, Friday had arrived. She hadn’t skipped a single class _or_ fallen asleep in the middle of a lesson once. Somehow, attending all of her classes and rarely seeing Zay outside of history or Lucas at all, outside of the sporadic but earnest texts at scheduling a right time att to talk — they had still been and seemed to still be unable to find the right time — and spending all of her lunches in the art classroom with Isadora, only feeling mildly out of place now. 

Even her only really unbearable class, English, didn’t drag that much. The fact that she doodled all class and Harper didn’t care had to be part of it. Still, she mostly paid attention. Even though she had no idea what was going on, it wasn’t _that_ unbearable. 

Scratch that. It wasn’t that unbearable until she received her first graded English assignment back.

“Matthews?”

“Maya!” Matthews raised his head from the pile of essays on his desk. He pushed his chair back, smiled at Maya. “Always nice to see you back. Getting started on the reflection due on Monday?” 

“No.” Maya rubbed her temples, already regretting everything. In her right hand, she clutched her graded English paper, folded in half, to her stomach.

She looked around the classroom. The only student here for Matthews’ after-school study sessions was Charlie. He sat in his usual spot in the far-back row. His gigantic black headphones fit over his head, music blared loudly enough that Maya heard the Mariah Carey all the way from the doorframe where she lingered. From that far, she could make out the textbook he was bent over. Calculus. He’d been in the same last-period calculus she dropped. She half-wanted to ask him how the class was going. With his furrowed brow, tongue stuck out in concentration, and the quick slide of pencil on his notebook, he was in the zone. She couldn’t ruin that. Maybe she’d ask him later.

As she looked back at Matthews, her eyes glazed over the whiteboard. Red-inked equations and formulas along with rough sketches of graphs filled the board. “You teach high school math?” Maya asked.

Matthews followed Maya’s line of vision to the whiteboard. “Absolutely not. I don’t believe in math. _But_ I remember enough from high school and Charlie asked me a question. We tried working it out together. Jury’s still out on whether or not I did anything because Charlie figured it out himself but hey, I supplied the whiteboard.”

Maya stifled a smile. She bounced up and down on her tiptoes, her grip on her paper loosened. “So you’re willing to help out on a class that isn’t history?”

“No promises that I’ll be useful but I’m happy to help. What is it?”

“I’m going to fail English.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“Okay, I’m currently failing English.” She crossed the space between them, marched up to his desk, and slapped her paper onto his desk. Her red D+ glared back at her. “If I keep this up, then I’ll fail the class, and I won’t get into college and my entire life is over before it even started. Who decided this? Why does a dumb boring book and how much I understood it matter so much to my future? I’m doing well in everything but English! How am I failing a class about a language I already speak! I’m trying _so_ hard but none of it’ll matter if I don’t get this right and I’m not going to so —”

“Maya,” Matthews interrupted gently. “Take a deep breath in, okay? Good. Let’s take a pause for a second. Do you have some water?”

“I have my saliva.”

“That’s — okay.” He stood from his chair, walked to the nearest desk, and lifted the chair behind it. He set it next to his desk. “Take a seat and we’ll talk, okay?”

Maya took in another deep breath. “Okay.” She sat, wiping her clammy palms down the sides of her jeans. Already the tension in her shoulders began to drain. But then she caught sight of her grade again and all that went to shit. “I’m trying but _Brave New World_ is so goddamn boring and I’m terrible with books and writing. This wasn’t even a proper essay, just a very rough draft, but I tanked it.”

“That’s good, though!” Matthews peered at Maya’s rough draft. He trailed his finger past the comments Harper had left on the first page. “Most of what Harper said was just feedback. She isn’t undermining your work or saying you did a poor job, which you didn’t. Follow her advice and you’ll be good. You just gotta flesh it out. Dig deeper. It seems like the root of your grade is she wanted you to go further. Connect more with the story and connect that back to the world. Don’t feel bad, Maya. Rough drafts are supposed to be bad. So you do what everyone does to their rough draft and tear it apart for your final copy.”

Maya tucked her clenched fists underneath her knees. Her ‘D+’ taunted her but she couldn’t look away from it. “I could still fail that.”

“You might.”

Her head snapped up. She narrowed her eyes. “That’s very encouraging, Mr. Matthews, thank you.”

He simply shrugged, leaning his seat back against the wall. “Worst case scenario: you tank the essay too. That’ll suck and you’ll have blown that shot at a decent grade —”

She bristled, mouth opening to retort back but Matthews continued.

“But here’s the thing. You get more than one shot. You’ll still have the next assignment. You’ve still got a little less than four months of the semester. So much time to bring it back around. You got knocked down this one time. It happens. Just don’t stay down.”

Not for the first time, she had the dumbest urge to ask him if he promised, if he swore to what he was saying. He was a good guy. A good teacher. A good father. She trusted him. He had already done so much for her. He got her to take art, have faith in herself and the person she could be, take school more seriously, and of course there was everything with Riley. The least she could do in return was believe him.

She would follow Harper’s feedback. Tear this draft to pieces then put it back together, better than before. Scrape by with at least a C, maybe even a B-minus. She could do this. She didn’t have much of a choice otherwise but it was still her choice to make. “Okay. I won’t … stay down.” 

“I know I haven’t known you very long, but I figured as much.” He beamed, his hands clasped atop the stack of papers he’d been grading. “You’re doing great, you know.”

Maya glowed, spilling with pride. She didn’t bother tamping her smile down, letting it grow and brighten. Her instinct was to insist that she didn’t deserve all the credit and she wasn’t doing that much anyway. But then she thought about when she tried to compliment Riley and how it rubbed her the wrong way when Riley brushed it off, passing her success as not fully her own. 

“Thank you, Mr. Matthews,” she said instead. “For everything.” 

His returning smile told her he understood exactly what she meant.

.

.

.

Around ten minutes later, the door to the history classroom opened.

Maya automatically looked up at the door. The pencil in her hand fell to her desk. “Riley?”

“Maya!” Clad in her cheerleading uniform, Riley smiled, big and goofy. She stepped inside and walked towards Matthews’ desk but kept her eyes trained on Maya. “Are you working on next week’s reflection?”

Maya closed her notebook. “Yeah. Thought I’d get a head start.”

“Nice. I don’t wanna interrupt you —”

“You’re not. Really.”

“Oh. Okay. Good.” 

Maya softened. She forgot about the reflection, the sketch due for art class on Monday, about everything, really, including how stupid she must’ve looked, smiling back at Riley without saying anything. “Are you skipping practice?”

Riley leaned against her dad’s desk, oblivious to the confused look on his face as she blocked him from Maya’s view. “No! I’d never. I take my craft seriously. I just needed to ask my dad something. Is he here?”

“Yes” came from Matthews behind Riley.

Riley’s eyes widened. She spun around, audibly gasping. “I didn’t even hear you step in!”

“Step in — honey, I was here the entire time.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Maya said, amused. “You didn’t notice?” 

“No.” Riley sounded horrified. “Dad, I’m _so_ sorry.” 

Matthews’ eyes crinkled with a smile. He shook his head, waving his hands out in front of him. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t worry about it? Do you know who I am? Just know you’re not invisible to me. You have value. You matter. You are seen.”

“Not by you,” Maya said under her breath.

“You!” Riley jabbed her finger behind her back, managing to point at Maya without seeing her. “Stop distracting me! I didn’t notice my father because of you.”

Maya made a face. “I didn’t _do_ anything.” 

“Riley,” Matthews said. “What did you need?”

“I just wanted to let you know that I’m hanging out with Missy after school.”

“You couldn’t text him that?” Maya asked.

Riley’s ponytail bobbed as she looked over her shoulder. The grin she shot at Maya made her chest stir with feeling, feather-light but intense. “He lost his phone. When I was fourteen years old, just a poor baby freshman, and _I_ lost my phone, he gave me the _biggest_ lecture about responsibility and ownership and taking accountability, blah blah blah. Now, he makes the same mistake, at _sixty years old_ —”

Matthews huffed. “I’m not sixty.”

“My bad. He makes the same mistake at _eighty-nine years old_ and is all, oh, it’s just a mistake, oh, it’ll turn up! What happened to responsibility, dad?”

“Yeah, Matthews,” Maya chimed in. “You’re setting a pretty terrible example here.”

“Thank you, Maya!” Riley set both hands on her hips. She stared expectantly at Matthews who gawked at both girls.

“What have I done? I thought bringing you two together would bring me peace but instead it’s brought … _chaos_.”

“Oh my god dude, relax,” Maya said. “Riley is so much more chill than you.”

Riley perched herself onto the desk next to Maya. She crossed her legs, raised both eyebrows. “Yeah, dad. Chill out.”

Matthews made a pained noise. “I’ve created two monsters.”

“ _Hey_ ,” Maya scoffed while Riley said, “Yes, you have, now deal with the consequences.”

“You guys could at least be a little quieter for Charlie’s sake,” Matthews said. “He’s working very hard and you two are being very disruptive.”

“Really?” Maya tore a page out of her notebook, crumpled it up into a ball, and tossed it at Charlie. It hit his feet.

Charlie’s eyebrows knitted together. He inspected the ball of paper before he lowered his headphones and looked up.

“Charlie,” Riley called out. “Are we disrupting you?”

“Uh, no. I didn’t even realize you were here. I’m good.”

“Thank you!”

“Uh, no problem?” Charlie flashed them a small smile before he slotted his headphones back over his head and resumed his work.

Maya laced her hands behind her head, giving Matthews a smug grin. Without looking, she extended her fist to Riley who didn’t miss a beat in bumping it back. “That’s what you get for pairing us together.”

Riley stuck her tongue out.

Matthews tapped his fingers along the edge of his table. The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Really, Riley?”

“Yes, Cory.”

Maya balked, mouth dropping open. “Your name is _Cory_?”

Matthews — Cory? — frowned. “What’s wrong with that?”

“What’s right with that? Your wife’s name is Topanga but yours is Cory?”

“How am I supposed to respond to that?”

“His full name is Cornelious,” Riley informed. “Does that help?”

Maya scratched her chin, staring at Cory carefully. “Kind of.”

Cory pushed his chair back from his desk. “I’m gonna take a walk.”

“Sorry,” Maya said. “Cornelius is a nice name. Very regal.” 

“Don’t be sorry. I really outta stretch my legs, take a break from the grading.” Cory stood, dusting his grey pants. “Riley, you’re free to spend time with Missy after school. You two coming back for dinner?”

“Nah, we’ll order in at her place and she’ll drop me home by curfew. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure to call mom or Shawn to let you guys know since, you know, I can’t call you.”

Maya snickered.

Cory crossed the space from his desk to the front door with quick strides and a dramatic sigh. “I love you too!”

The second after Cory left the room, Riley turned to Maya. She brought her feet onto the desk and hugged her knees to her chest, a conspiratorial glint in her eyes. “I have a question.”

Maya tried to ignore the strange flutter near her ribcage. She managed a nod.

“How are you and Lucas? You don’t have to answer if you want but —”

“We’re good,” Maya cut in. She fidgeted with her fingers, face heating up as she contemplated what _good_ really meant. “We still haven’t talked yet but that’s not a big deal. He’s been busy with, like, everything. Practice and work.”

“Why not talk during lunch?”

Maya opened her mouth. Then promptly shut it. “Good point. Well, I’ve still been spending all my lunches in the art room and I guess he’s with the football guys —”

“No, he isn’t.”

“What?”

“He and Zay have been sitting with me, Farkle, and Missy this week.”

“Oh. Wait, what? So _you’ve_ been sitting with him all week?”

Riley scratched the back of her neck. “Yes?” In a softer voice, she asked, “Is that okay?”

“Huh.” It should’ve bothered Maya. The fact that it didn’t bothered her more. She considered this, throat bobbing as she swallowed. “Yeah. ‘Course it’s okay. What do you think of him?”

“He’s gentler than anyone gives him credit for. Friendly, charming, terrible dad-like jokes. Really good listener, too. He listens to Farkle and Zay babbling about biology and physics even though I think he doesn’t know what either of them is really talking about. He’s a good guy. I see it.”

“See what?”

“What you see in him.”

Maya’s throat dried. She threaded her fingers through her hair, pushing it away from her face. “Is it bad that we still haven’t talked?”

“I can’t speak on your relationship,” Riley said softly. “I can’t tell you what’s good or not.”

“Riley.”

“Maybe —” Riley rubbed her hands together, letting out a shaky breath. She watched her feet swing back and forth. “Maybe think about why you haven’t. What you’re both afraid of.”

“I’m not scared,” Maya insisted but her voice fell flat, didn’t carry any of the conviction she thought it would. “Okay, fine, maybe a little but anyone would be. It’s fair to not want things to change. Right?”

“Of course. But things change whether you want them to or not. You can’t stop it. None of us can.” 

Maya followed her impulse and rested her hand on Riley’s knee, her black tights separating Maya’s fingers from Riley’s bare skin. It was only for a half-second but her fingertips took longer to adjust after Maya pulled away. “You sound like you know from experience.”

“Some lessons you gotta learn the hard way, right? Maybe this is how you learn yours.”

“Okay, but not everything’s a lesson. Sometimes bad shit happens and it’s not like there’s a logical conclusion to gain from it. Life isn’t one big classroom,” Maya argued, but honestly? She didn’t believe in what she said more than she wanted to hear what Riley would say next, what positive, life-affirming argument she would assert. 

Except she wouldn’t. 

“Rie?”

It had only been two seconds since Missy stepped into the classroom and Maya was already over it.

Riley’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Hey, Miss, what’re you — oh! I completely forgot.” 

“You have never forgotten about practice _ever_.” Missy leaned against the doorframe as she played with the edge of her cheerleading skirt. Her lips quirked up into an almost smile. “Distracted by your new friend?”

“What can I say? I’m a terrible influence.” Maya raised her chin, staring coolly at Missy. 

“You are not.” Riley didn’t quite glare at Maya, Maya truly thought Riley was incapable of it, but the crease in her forehead came close. “Don’t say that.”

“Well.” Maya already knew she would hate whatever Missy said next. “You’ve never forgotten about practice before. It’s not an unreasonable conclusion.”

“ _Missy_ ,” Riley said sharply. “Enough.”

Missy’s jaw clenched but she smiled through her teeth. “C’mon. Don’t think the girls are ever gonna take us talking about punctuality seriously again considering both their co-captains are late —”

“You’re co-captain?” Maya blinked up at Riley, awe-struck. “That’s cool.”

“Thanks!”

“Yes, thank you, Maya.” Missy smiled sharply. “It is _cool_.”

Maya gritted her teeth. She dug the tip of her pencil into her desk hard enough that a piece of lead broke off. “Aren’t you two running late? I really shouldn’t be distracting _both_ team captains.”

“We should get going.” Riley hopped off the desk and jogged toward Missy. She gripped Missy’s shoulders and steered her out of the classroom. She must have whispered something into Missy’s ear because Missy soon after said, “I _am_ nice.”

Maya rolled her eyes. The only thing that kept her from throwing her pencil into Missy’s back was, well —

“Bye, Maya!” Riley waved frantically at Maya before she descended into the hallway. “Text you after practice!”

Maya fumbled with her phone and hastily sent out a text to Riley.

[Maya]: texted you first.  
[Maya]: lemme know how practice goes, co-caption

.

.

.

“It’s not that the quiz was hard, Mr. Matthews,” Charlie insisted. “It’s the principle of having to write quizzes. It’s an ineffective way for us to learn when our class discussions and group projects work so much better especially when run by you. Pushing us to speak and listen to each other is what gets us to learn instead of memorizing what year Lincoln died.”

This wasn’t the first time Maya had heard Charlie speak or anything. It was, however, the first time she heard him speak more than two sentences and outside of someone’s living room with a brimming Solo cup in one hand. 

Cory nodded empathetically. Sitting up on his desk, he swung his legs back and forth. “I agree with you, how can I not? It’s just that the board gives us certain requirements I have to meet or else I lose my job.”

At this point, Maya couldn’t remember how she and Charlie stopped doing their homework and crawled up on their desks to talk to Cory about the deeply flawed school system. It had to have been past five already, long past when Cory’s after-school sessions ended but no one paid mind to the time.

Maya scratched her chin. “How would the board know? Can’t you just _tell_ them you made us write quizzes without actually doing it?”

Cory loosened his tie, navy with Superman’s logo emblazoned on it, and gave a short laugh. “Did that my first year of teaching. I got myself a warning, nothing more than a slap on the wrist. But it was enough that I didn’t risk it again. I know, I know, that’s not very brave of me but I try to push the needle in my own ways and use the loopholes. I thought I’d tell you guys this when I handed your quizzes back next week but I’ll tell you two now. This is the only quiz of the semester.”

“You pinky swear?” Maya blurted out, a new instinct in which she added to her long list of _Shit I’m Ignoring Forever._

Charlie cupped his hands around his mouth and cheered. “Matthews, you are the _best_ teacher I’ve ever had. Seriously. Thank you.”

Cory shook his head. “It’s all ‘cuz of you guys.”

“Accept the compliment, Cornelius.” Maya froze. “Was that too far?”

“Nah. Keep it outside of class hours and you’re good.”

“She’s right, Cornelius,” Charlie said sagely. “You should accept the compliment.”

“Okay, is Cornelius gonna be a thing now because I should really prepare my —”

“Ooh. Cornelius. It should be a thing, shouldn’t it?” 

With a white take-out bag in one hand and a pair of keys in the other hand, the man who had spoken strolled into the classroom. His painfully endeared smile took up his entire face. Maya had no idea who this guy was but he struck her as strangely familiar.

Whoever he was, Cory clearly knew him well. She had never seen her teacher like this before. Cory smiled back, gaze warm as he sighed contently. “You can call me Cornelius just this once because you brought me my favourite thing ever.”

The man set the take-out on Cory’s desk. “Orange chicken.”

“You’re misunderstanding me on purpose, right, obviously I meant —”

“Oh shit, it’s already five-thirty?” Charlie jumped off his desk. He shoved his textbook into his backpack and walked backwards out of the classroom. “Man, the time flew by. Thanks for letting me study here again, Matthews! And a nice conversation about the deeply-rooted flaws in academia you guys. Bye!” With a two-fingered salute, he left the room.

Charlie Gardener was an odd dude. Maya liked him very much.

“Bye, Charlie!” The man called out. He stepped right next to Cory and rested his hand behind Cory’s back. Seriously, who _was_ this guy? Maybe he was a new teacher this year that taught in the younger grades. “Your students are so nice. Much nicer than we were.”

Cory scoffed. “I was a _delight_.” 

“Didn’t you tell me once that you used to give your teacher a hard time?” Maya piped up. 

“See what I mean?” The man rubbed his hands in circles over Cory’s back, grinning down at Cory. “Your students are the best. Hi, I’m — oh. I know you.”

Cory glanced between them, bewildered. “You do?”

“Oh. You do.” At last, the lightbulb went off. Zay’s kickback was exactly a month ago from today. She remembered the night well, every part from Lucas and Zay’s duet at karaoke at the beginning of the night all the way to the end when she dropped Riley off. “It was when I brought Riley home. I went into your apartment’s foyer. Stopped right by the elevator. I didn’t go up but you did.”

“Really!” Cory rose from his seat, both hands framing his face. “You’ve both met? That’s amazing. Shawnie, this is Maya.” 

Shawnie — that couldn’t possibly be his real name — nodded eagerly, face alight with recognition. “The infamous Maya Hart.” He extended his hand.

Maya stepped forward and gingerly shook his hand. “Matthews, you’ve talked about me? At home?”

“Not him,” Shawnie said. Their handshake ended and he immediately placed his hand back on Cory, this time over his shoulder. 

“Oh.” Maya’s face heated up. She smiled at her feet. “Wow! Okay. I’m Maya. You already knew that but. Yes.”

“Maya, this is Shawn,” Cory said.

Maya waited for him to follow with an explanation as to who Shawn was. Definitely not brothers. Certainly not colleagues. They had to have lived together since nothing else explained why Shawn would have gone up to the Matthews’ so late in the night but that was also confusing. Cory was married to Riley’s mother.

After several seconds of silence, Maya realized that that was all the explanation she would get. Shawn was Shawn. Someone who lived with the Matthews’, was dear and near to Cory, and who Riley apparently talked to about Maya. 

“Nice to meet you, Shawn,” Maya said. 

“Likewise.”

Cory began filing his things away, tucking a thick binder into his briefcase. “You didn’t have to pick me up though. I was happy to take the subway.”

“Mm, but I wanted to surprise you. And also, the last time you rode the subway, you lost your phone.”

“You brought me food and you’re driving me home at the end of a long week. That is the only reason I’m not gonna say anything about the _needlessly rude_ way everyone keeps bringing up the one time I lose my phone —”

“Because this is you not saying anything, yes.” 

“Oh, you and I both know I could be so much worse about this.”

Shawn’s eyes twinkled. “Yes, Cor, we do.”

Maya probably should’ve left when Charlie did. She was intruding — on what, she had no fucking clue — and as achingly sweet as it was to watch these two, she was out of place. “I should head out. It was nice meeting you, Shawn. And Matthews, thanks for all the help.”

Cory pulled the container of take-out, set it over the white bag Shawn brought it in. “Anytime. You’re always welcome here. I have no worry that you’ll do anything but excel with this essay.”

“Nice meeting you too, Maya.” Shawn pulled up a chair from the desk next to Maya. He dragged it next to Cory and sat. His knee dug into Cory’s thigh. Instead of inching away, Cory patted Shawn’s knee and let his hand rest there. “I’m glad I got to meet Riley’s new friend. You’re welcome over for dinner if you’d like. I’m surprised Riley hasn’t asked you.”

Maya paused midway into slinging her backpack over her back. She thought about Riley’s technical offer into her apartment the same night of Zay’s kickback. Riley had just said that Maya should come in, that Topanga would want to thank her and there would be hot chocolate and snacks if she wanted. Maya hadn’t accepted then. She didn’t know if she would accept such an offer now.

Cory passed Shawn one of the plastic forks from inside the container. “Maybe then she’d stop texting Maya at dinner so much and we’d actually get her off her phone, huh?”

“Or she could go on the subway and lose hers like you lost —”

Cory nudged Shawn. “That was completely uncalled for.”

Shawn nudged Cory back. “Your face is completely uncalled for.”

“Is that a compliment or insult?”

“Yes.”

Bright and warm all over with the hazy image of Riley texting Maya, trying to hide her phone underneath the table in the middle of a familiar dinner but getting caught anyway, Maya cleared her throat. “If Riley asks, I’ll be sure to take her up on the offer. You guys have a nice weekend. Enjoy the orange chicken.”

They paused from their elbowing and teasing to wave her goodbye.

She left the classroom and the school with a skip to her step. 

Over an hour later, when she was home and out of the shower, she curled up in bed in her pyjamas and opened up her messages. She found three new messages from Riley.

[Riley]: Practice was good!! :) the team didn’t appreciate that we were late but i don’t appreciate their unappreciation so whatever  
[Riley]: And sorry that Missy was being kind of rude :(( she’s just having a bad day, it’s NOTHING to do with you!! I promise  
[Riley]: How was after school studying with my dad???

[Maya]: i’m sorry i made you late though  
[Maya]: i’ll be a better influence  
[Maya]: and it’s fine, you don’t have to apologize for her but thanks for doing it anyway :)  
[Maya]: i met shawn  
[Maya]: he brought your dad takeout and made fun of him for losing his phone  
[Maya]: he also said you’ve talked to him about me before  
[Maya]: i like him he’s cool

Riley replied instantly.

[Riley]: AH HE’S THE BEST  
[Riley:] Don’t listen to him though he exaggerates a lot  
[Riley]: BUT HE’S THE BEST AND I’M GLAD YOU LIKE HIM :D   
[Riley]: I’m still at Missy’s so I’ll talk to you later tonight!!! Enjoy your usual Friday naps :)

Maya rolled over, blanket twisting around her, and smiled face-down into her pillow, too giddy to even care about how embarrassing she was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, friends!! 
> 
> the slight delay in this chapter's posting is:
> 
> a) due to school starting and my complete inability to manage my time and 
> 
> b) i was really particular in this chapter and how i wanted it to turn out. i've had the shawn scene in mind for a loooong time. it's one of three scenes i pictured so clearly and knew i wanted in this fic when i first considered (re)writing this fic, so!! i'm really happy to have written it. the next of those scenes is a few chapters away and we have a whiiiiiile for the third lol.
> 
> anywho, i hope you enjoyed the chapter!! it did NOT mean to get this long but y'know what i had fun writing it and i hope you had fun reading!! next chapter will have actual. plot things i promise. also, fun fact - the whole maya being baffled by cory's name was just because i realized the other day i haven't actually used cory's name in the fic yet??? and that had to change immediately.
> 
> i'd love to know what you thought of the chapter!! see y'all soon and take care :-)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see end notes for warnings. (if you'd like to know what the tw is in advance, you'll know what part to skip and what happens without having to actually read it. so it'll include spoilers!

“A college fair on Halloween? How fitting.”

“It really won’t be that bad,” Cory insisted but the resounding groans from the rest of the history class proved they all agreed with Maya. “You’ll get a look into the colleges in the area, ask questions, get information about programs, clubs, financial aid, what the next four years of your life will look like. It’ll be a little intimidating yes, but the best way to ease your anxieties is to confront it. So let’s confront it! Who’s excited?”

Silence.

“Really guys?”

Riley’s hand shot up.

“Yes! I’m glad to see that someone’s looking forward to it.”

“I am excited,” Riley said and already Maya, slumped over in her seat, face in her hands, had started to giggle. “Excited for it to end.”

“My own daughter,” Cory said mournfully. “You didn’t have to say that, you know.”

“I know but the silence was just so loud. I felt bad for you, Dad.”

“Thank you, hon.”

“Mr. Matthews,” Zay called out. “You have to understand that we are very small and very scared. Colleges are big and will eat us whole next year.”

Maya grumbled in agreement.

Cory paced across the classroom until he reached Zay’s column of seats. “That’s not true. They won’t eat you whole … I mean, they might take an arm or a limb, but —”

“This is unfair,” Riley spoke up. “My no college-talk rule should extend to the classroom too. I don’t know why you’re talking about it so much and confirming our fears that college will kill us. You’re scaring children, Matthews. _Children_.”

“Fine. I’ll drop it,” Cory said. “Just wanted to explain why we won’t have class tomorrow. Still meet in the classroom for attendance and leave your things here. And please don’t skip the period. Even if you aren’t planning on attending college, there’s a lot of information about other options.”

The bell rang. Maya’s sigh of relief was drowned out by her classmates’ rush of movements, binders pushed into backpacks, chairs scraping against the floor, students already out the door.

Maya wasn’t in a rush to leave. As she slowly closed her history binder, her focus remained on the back of Riley’s neck. “So does the no college talk extend to us?”

Riley looked over her shoulder at Maya and groaned. “Depends if you’re gonna ask me about what I’ll major in and which school I’ll go to. Because I have too many ideas which really means I have no idea because if I can’t choose then I’ll really be screwed so —”

“I won’t ask.”

“Thank you.” Riley slid her backpack over her back and stood to full height.

“Are you gonna skip though?”

Maya turned around and smiled automatically at the sound of Zay’s voice. He was just teasing but he had to have known the answer to his question.

She couldn’t bring herself to spend an entire period walking around the school’s atrium, booths for more than a dozen colleges set up, all those pamphlets and buttons and signs. The idea of being squeezed between her classmates, everyone ready for the next step down their path while Maya still had no idea where she was going, terrified her.

There was also the fact that Lucas would be there. This wouldn’t be a problem if they had their talk already. It was a big problem now.

All of October had gone by. For a week there, they both made genuine attempts to find the right time but nothing worked and their texts soon dried out and … it just sort of happened that they hadn’t talked in weeks. This was officially the longest they had gone without talking in the three years they’d known each other. Not that Maya was counting.

“I won’t skip,” Maya said. “But don’t take it as a sign if you don’t see me at all during the fair.”

Riley sighed like this deeply troubled her and linked her arm through Maya’s, walking them towards the door. It stunned Maya, the effortless, almost thoughtless way Riley touched her like personal space was just a choice she decided not to make and like Maya wouldn’t complain about it. 

Which, yes, Maya didn’t complain. In her defence, she couldn’t remember how to.

“You have to come.” Riley gently pulled Maya behind her, giving Zay room to walk out the door at the same time as them. “If I don’t see you at the beginning _and_ at the end of the period —”

“You’ll what?” Maya interjected. “Be sad?”

“I’ll be very disappointed.”

“That’s even worse,” Zay said helpfully, heading down the same direction as them in the hallway. “You better show up.”

“I will!” Maya would not. “Could you have a little faith in me?”

Zay and Riley shared a knowing look, wearing identically amused smiles. It sent a strange thrill down her spine, the ease between them, how Riley looped her other arm around Zay’s like she wanted him close too. Everyone liked Zay, you weren’t a person if you didn’t, but it still satisfied her to know that Riley did too. 

“We do have faith in you,” Zay said. “But sometimes you need a little nudge.”

Their pace came to a halt by the doorway. For her next class, Maya was going down while Riley and Zay had to go up. She shot them small smiles. “Thank you, mom and dad. I promise I’ll make you proud.”

Riley leaned her head against Zay’s shoulder. “Oh, honey, they grow up so fast.”

“I know, darling.” Zay sighed contently. “Where does the time go?”

Maya disentangled herself from Riley’s arm and took one tentative step back. She shook her head, fighting off a laugh. “You’re both ridiculous.”

Zay wagged a finger at her. “Don’t speak to your mother and me that way.”

.

.

.

Maya considered faking an illness. Pretend to be sick. Have Katy call the school. Text Riley and Zay that she really wanted to go but alas, her immune system refused.

But it came down to this: she’d just be screwing herself over. 

Maya was well-versed in the art of screwing yourself over. She could write a handbook on it. But she wanted to be able to write the sequel too — How To Stop Sabotaging Yourself, Even Though You’re A Dumbass. Going to the stupid college fair would be great research for that eventual New York Times Bestseller, wouldn’t it?

“You came!”

Maya bit back a smile at the pure excitement in Riley’s voice. She shimmied past Riley’s desk and sat on top of hers, propping her feet against the back of Riley’s seat. “Couldn’t disappoint you, could I?” 

“And you didn’t!” Riley sat backwards in her seat. Her smile dropped into a frown. “But you’re not dressed for Halloween.”

“Not all of us can be ... holy shit, are you Harley Quinn?” She peered closer to get a better look at Riley’s makeup. Pale white foundation all over her face, dark red lipstick, a black heart coloured in below her left eye. Her hair was pulled up into two pig-tails with stray hairs framing her face. She wore a pink crop-top, black tank top underneath, and golden overalls. A toy hammer sat in her lap, no longer than Riley’s arm. “Impressive.” 

Extremely hot, too. But Maya knew better than to say that out loud.

Riley lifted her toy hammer and swung it around. “Thank you! I hope I did her justice.”

“You did. You look really good.” Maya cleared her throat. Clearly, she didn’t know better than to say _that_ , so she quickly added, “You like Halloween?”

“I love it. It’s a fun holiday. No expectations —”

“You were just making pouty faces at my lack of a costume, but okay.”

Riley tapped her hammer against Maya’s knee and shushed her. “Full of candy and chocolate and fun Disney Original movies. It’s great to have a day where you can dress as whatever you want. Why didn’t you dress up?”

“I did! Kind of.” 

“Really? Then what are you?”

“I’m dressed like a person who hates Halloween so they don’t dress up. It’s meta.”

“Do _you_ hate Halloween?”

“I’m not five. I have no feelings about this made-up children’s holiday.”

“All holidays are made up.”

“So you agree with me that all holidays are stupid,” Maya said. “We really do have so much in common.”

“Valentine’s Day?”

“Boo. Who cares. A day for love when literally every song, movie, and book are about love? Pass.”

“The holiday season in December? C’mon, even if you’re not religious, you have to admit it’s a beautiful, jolly time.”

“It’s cold, the prices are jacked up from Christmas shopping, you’re either stressed that you have to buy gifts or disappointed you didn’t receive them, and every song, movie, and show on air are all about the holidays. Yuck.”

“Your birthday!”

“I didn’t even do anything. I was just removed from my mom. Again, who cares? Why is this day about _me_ and not her?” 

“I know your secret.” Maya didn’t _have_ one but the way Riley said it, all knowing and determined and with way too much certainty, made her shiver. “You _do_ have a heart. So why are you acting like you don’t?”

“You know, I celebrate Halloween!”

“Really? _How_?”

“I watch Scream and get drunk at Charlie Gardener’s annual party.” 

Riley perked up. “You’re going this year, then?”

“Looks like it.” She, Zay, and Lucas had gone together each year. Zay usually separated his time between his different groups of friends, which usually meant everyone, but she always had Lucas by her side. When Zay had texted her about it yesterday, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to go but now? Things suddenly seemed different. 

“I’ll see you there!” Riley clapped, like this was the best news she’d heard all week, but just as quickly narrowed her eyes. It was remarkable how quickly she could flit between emotions. And also sort of terrifying. “But you _have_ to wear a costume.”

“Riley, I —”

“Please? For me?”

“Look, I —”

“Don’t you respect me?”

“Oh my god, just listen,” Maya said. “Even if I wanted to wear a costume, I don’t actually have one.”

“Not a problem. I have the perfect idea Lemme check home to see if I’ve got it and I’ll text you then, okay? That’ll give you tomorrow before the party to find something else if you need to but I doubt you will.”

Maya wanted to say no. She didn’t _do_ costumes. Charlie didn’t mind, allowing anyone who went to Abigail Adams, or at the very least whoever at least told him that they did, into his home. Zay poked fun at her, insisted she had no soul for not even celebrating Halloween, but never gave her shit for it. Lucas never —

It didn’t really matter what Lucas did or didn’t. He wouldn’t have anything to say about it this year.

But Riley cared. That trademark determination of hers lit up her eyes while her big dorky smile remained soft. Who could say no to that?

Besides, it might be fun. This was her last Charlie Gardener Halloween bash. It should be one for the ages.

Riley drummed her fingers along Maya’s ankle, her smile turning playful. “Do I have to say please?”

“I guess I’ll give you this one free pass.” Maya smiled back and moved her foot forward as if she was going to kick Riley’s knee, delighted by how quickly Riley darted back. “Sure. I’ll take your costume.”

“It’s not a costume.”

“What?”

“Just trust me,” Riley said, and strangely enough, Maya did.

.

.

.

“Why are they playing Thriller right now? Aren’t there classes in session? How will we _hear_ what these college people have to say?” 

“Why are you of all people flipping out about this?” From behind Maya, Zay’s hands came down on her shoulders and gave her a small, reassuring squeeze. 

Seniors swarmed the atrium, side-stepping past Maya and Zay but not _well_ with how often she kept getting bumped into. It was already suffocating with the dozens of colleges set up in the atrium, the cafeteria, and the gym. The students didn’t have to make it worse. Maya knew she wasn’t the friendliest of all people but an ‘excuse me’ or ‘sorry’ would go a long fucking way.

A group of cheerleaders flocked past them. One’s shoulder knocked into Maya so hard that she nearly fell back into Zay. Maya seethed, extending her arm to grab that girl by the shoulder, but then a gentle voice right by her ears cut through the music, the overeager college representatives, and their rude classmates.

“Sorry about them. They’re just excited. I don’t get it either.”

Maya relaxed at the sound of Riley’s voice, barely even noticing when Riley winded their arms. “Are you really the only nice cheerleader in this godforsaken building?”

“Aw, you think I’m nice?”

“Everyone thinks you’re nice, sugar,” Zay said, eyeing them with a flicker of amusement. “If Maya thinks you’re nice, then you know it’s really true.”

Something warm stirred inside of Maya as she raised an eyebrow at Zay. “That almost sounded like a compliment.”

Zay shrugged, thumbing the straps of his backpack. “That almost sounded like a thank you.” He glanced around, scowling at the flood of students jogging down the main stairway. “Look, I gotta check out the schools in the caf before the line gets too long but good luck with the fair. Take as many pamphlets as you can!” He gave a shake of his empty backpack before he ran backwards, not bumping into a single person because, well, he was Zay.

“You are nice,” Maya told Riley. “Very nice.”

“Oh.” It was ridiculous that _that_ made Riley blush, as if they weren’t standing shoulder-to-shoulder, their arms joined, fingers close enough they almost touched. “Thank you.” 

Maya had no idea what to do with Riley’s nervousness — Riley and nervous seemed contradictory and unsettled Maya — so she asked, “You’re really not excited?”

They both took steps back at the same time and leaned against the row of lockers near them. This set of lockers was blissfully empty, all the students having finally joined the fair.

“I want to go to college but I’m still scared of it.” Riley fiddled with her toy hammer, patting her palm with it. “You know?”

“Definitely. I want to avoid it but the great thing about it is that you can’t. Literally.” Maya stared out at the banner hanging from the stairway that led up to the third floor. Bright red letters that read: WELCOME, COLLEGES! Around them, dozens of college representatives flashed pearly-white smiles and answered questions. Pamphlets, pens, and buttons lined their tables. The fair had only been running for five minutes and yet the floor was already covered in flyers.

Riley looked out at the fair with wide eyes. But in a flash, she steeled. Chin tipped up, jaw set, shoulders straight. The nervousness in her eyes remained but the contrast caught Maya’s attention. She didn’t know how to do that. Be afraid and be brave. It was always one or the other with her, such a combination never an option. 

“They say the only way to confront your fear is to actually confront your fear,” Riley said. “So let’s go confront it.” She didn’t say it but Maya heard it all the same, the underlying _together_ in Riley’s voice. 

And so she let Riley drag her forward, into the sea of colleges and students, the effortless blend of the forceful and comforting way she clung to Maya making it easier to breathe.

They idled at two tables. Maya didn’t bother reading the college names, resigning herself to scanning the pamphlet and eyeing the art programs they had. She had no idea if Katy would ever let Maya apply for art programs but the only thing she could think of studying and spending a ridiculous amount of money for four years was art. From the two pamphlets she skimmed and stuffed into her bag, it seemed that all she needed was a portfolio and to be taking any twelfth-grade arts course.

And a decent English grade coupled with a decent SAT score. Neither of which Maya had.

Whatever. Future Maya’s problem. She couldn’t afford to care about this right now, not while Riley went, “Ooh, they’re giving away free _pens,_ let’s go here!” and promptly tugged Maya into the direction of another table, one that was thankfully empty of students.

Maya eyed the items on the table as Riley rattled off a list of questions to the representative. Maya felt out of breath just listening to her, bewildered that someone who apparently had a rule forbidding anyone at home speak of college could have _this_ much to ask about it. She tuned Riley’s voice out before she could become anxious about how much Maya didn’t know about the application process and slipped two pens into her pockets. One for her and one for Riley. 

Soon, Riley wordlessly tugged Maya into the direction of another table. Getting dragged around, having someone to force her to look at the different booths, just having someone to attend this fair _with_ made it all the more bearable. Maya was lucky.

And as Riley pulled her along, Maya was about to thank her.

Until Riley’s favourite person showed up. 

“Rie!?”

Maya felt partially responsible for this. Thinking about how lucky she was, she had to have summoned Missy somehow, bringing her out of whatever cave she lived in out here to turn Maya’s luck upside down. Oh goody.

“Miss!” The handful of students around them parted. They gave room for Riley and Missy to hug and squeal and rejoice at each other. 

Maya stood back. She shoved her hands into her pockets, warily watching Riley fawn over Missy’s costume.

“I knew your _Us_ costume would be amazing but oh my god, it’s even more amazing than I could’ve imagined!” Riley adjusted Missy’s collar, her other hand trailing down Missy’s red get-up. Maya hadn’t seen _Us_ yet but she’d seen the trailer and fine, this did look pretty accurate to what Evil Lupita Nyong’o wore in the film. But Missy probably just bought it. 

“I can’t believe you stitched this all on your own,” Riley exclaimed.

Whatever.

Maya clenched the straps of her backpack. Her stomach sank, deeper and deeper the more Riley and Missy complimented each other. It was like Riley had come alive, her voice chipper, her face more expressive, her hands gesturing to every inch of Missy’s clothing. If Maya had thought Riley was handsy earlier, that was nothing to the way Riley kept poking and prodding at Missy’s costume and how _close_ they stood together, breaths apart.

Maya didn’t notice she had taken a step back until she had already taken five. By then, it just seemed logical. Of course, Riley would want to go booth-hopping with her best friend. Maya certainly didn’t want to be near Missy for longer than just now, and that was only if Riley wanted Maya to come around too. If Riley had said _bye_ to Maya and then walked off with Missy, well —

Maya didn’t stick around long enough to find out.

.

.

.

Next to the boy’s gym hid a small hallway and a door out the side of the school that few knew about. Teachers rarely ventured that far so it made the perfect spot for everything: quiet lunches, a make-out spot, and an easy way to skip school. She’d used this hallway and its accompanying door for every one of those purposes with Lucas so it felt fitting, somehow, that she bumped into him then and there.

She was walking so briskly, in desperate need of some _air_ and a break from the aggressive reminders of college that she walked right into him pushing the door open with his hip. She’d never seen him in his letterman jacket before but she recognized his number right away, the large white twenty on his back. “Lucas?”

The door had started to open but it promptly shut with a loud creak. 

Lucas froze. His bruise from his fight with Oliver had mostly healed, the skin around his eye a little purple and tender but barely noticeable. Stuffed into his pockets were a handful of college pamphlets. He stared at her, mouth open, his face painfully open.

“Maya,” he said finally. “Are you skipping the fair?”

“No. Are you?”

“... No.”

Silence was never a problem with them. It used to be comfortable, but now it stretched and stretched and stretched, pulling her further away from him with each passing second.

She couldn’t take this any longer. She would hide in a bathroom stall or be ballsy enough and walk out through the school’s main doors. Anything but stand here and gawk at her ex-something and wish that the world had just left them alone and not have ruined everything. “I should —”

“Wanna not skip together?” His throat bobbed as he tilted his head towards the door. “Parking lot should be empty. Maybe we could, uh, you know. Talk. I’m sorry for —”

“Shut up.” She took his wrist, pushed the door open, and yanked them both towards the school’s parking lot. If they didn’t do this now, they never would and it would be too late for them. Faced with that possibility now, Maya refused to accept it.

.

.

.

“You cold? You want my jacket?”

“I’m fine.” Maya wrapped her arms around her knees and hugged them to her chest. Her denim jacket just barely kept her warm from the very end of October’s wind. She always took way too long to switch to a proper coat in autumn, too stubborn to let go of summer. 

Soon, she would have no choice but for now, she was okay. The sun was out and left them warm as they sat on the hood of his Jeep. They were close enough that the sides of their shoes touched. Leaves rustled around them, red and orange scattered across the pavement. No students or teachers lingered in the parking lot. They were completely alone.

“So,” Lucas said. He splayed his legs out, his bouncing knees slightly shaking the hood. “I don’t really know what to —”

“You look so much like Ken right now.”

“What?”

“Ken. You know, Barbie’s boyfriend?” She gestured to him — his blonde hair, letterman jacket, his confused but sincere smile. “Maybe the healing bruise doesn’t quite fit the look but we can say you got it defending Barbie’s honour or whatever.”

He scratched his bruise, chuckling at her weak attempt at a joke. “That’s still not very nice of me, is it? Doesn’t a true gentleman in today’s age not butt into a ... a gentlewoman’s fight?”

“Maybe not. But maybe you don’t have to be so perfect. Maybe today’s Ken has to be a little flawed.”

“Don’t think I’m the right guy for him. My flaws have flaws.”

She rolled her eyes and nudged his foot with hers. “Knock it off. Take away the fighting and the skipping and the grades —”

“Love how we’re acting as if those are minor flaws and not all terrible and big issues of mine.”

“Take away all of that and you’re great.”

“Should we also take my inability to communicate?”

“Only if you take away mine too.” Suddenly, she couldn’t stomach the sight of him. His kind eyes, his self-deprecating smile, the sensitive skin around his eye. She shifted her gaze at an oak tree on the other side of the parking lot, watching the wind rustle what remained of the tree’s dying leaves. “Alright. I’ve taken yours away. Relish in your ability to communicate and oh, I don’t know, maybe use it with me.”

“I deserve that.” His arm didn’t exactly wrap around her back but he spread it out behind her, allowing her to lean against him in favour of sitting up on her own. “I owe you an apology.”

“I already got that. An explanation is what I want instead.”

“I don’t know how.”

“Yes, you do. I know you can do it.”

“You’re gonna hate me.”

“Nope.”

“You won’t see me the same.”

“Maybe, but I already don’t see you the same now.” She bit her tongue, wishing she could shove the words back into her mouth. “What I mean is that stuff between us is already different. You said you wanted to talk, to tell me, so if you’ve changed your mind, just say it, okay?”

“But I _want_ to tell you,” he stressed, his voice cracking. “I don’t know how.”

“Don’t think. Just speak.”

“But what if —”

“It’s okay if you’re not ready, we don’t have to —”

“A few years ago, I beat the shit out of my dad.”

Maya’s heart dropped. She couldn’t even _think_ of what to say or how she felt or what any of this meant so she didn’t bother with words. She hooked her arm around his waist and held him tightly, firmly, hoping it said all the things she couldn’t say herself.

He accepted the invitation she offered with her silence and continued. “I was fourteen and I broke his nose and fractured a rib and — and he got two black eyes and I don’t remember what else but there was more and there was a lot of blood. You know that people have a lot of blood, sure, but then you _see_ it, all over your clothes, your fists, your face —”

“Lucas.” She snapped out of it, pulling back to look up at him through cloudy eyes. “What —”

“Don’t worry. Most of it wasn’t mine.” He tried to smile but it didn’t reach his eyes. 

“What did he do?” 

“You’re not afraid?”

“You’re a big blonde teddy bear,” she said plainly. “What’s there to be afraid of? Tell me what he _did_.”

“In hindsight, it was probably an overreaction. I don’t fucking regret it, but — but he and my mom are in love, you know, high school sweethearts that have dates every other weekend and leave each other little love notes in their lunches and it’s all so sweet it’s disgusting. Looking back on it now, I don’t think he would’ve kept going but I just — I heard it hit her foot, and I heard her scream out in pain, and the fuck am I supposed to think in the moment? He threw a _vase_ by her feet, Maya, what was I supposed to do?” 

She tipped his chin down, smoothed her thumb over the first tear that fell down his face. “You did what you had to,” she said firmly. “You did the right thing.”

“My mom looked _heartbroken_. This was the man she loved, the person she chose to spend her life with, the father of her kids, and he hurt her. You know what they were even arguing about? That night’s dinner. He wanted her to make chicken but she refused, said he bought it without asking her, that _Lucas won’t eat it_. Who gets that fucking mad about chicken? He’s never, ever hit her before. How the fuck is this what makes him snap? How do you just — just do that, make your wife bleed, watch as she falls to the floor? And he had the goddamn nerve to look shocked that I pushed him to the wall. As if he didn’t raise me to be strong and tough. To be a real man. Doesn’t a real man protect the people he loves? To fight back against the people who hurt them? Did he think he was the exception?

“But I was supposed to be. I was supposed to be someone he couldn’t bring himself to hurt, but I guess his pride just got in the way and he —” His breath hitched. No tears fell but his red eyes came close, watering to the point where he would’ve burst into tears had he not furiously rubbed his eyes. 

Above them, a flock of birds flew by. Grey darkened the sky and with a quick glance up, she spotted clouds all around them. It had to be seconds away from raining. But she couldn’t bring herself to drag Lucas back inside. If they went back to class half an hour later, drenched in rainwater and with colds, then so be it.

She rubbed his back as piece by piece, her heart slowly broke. “What did he do to you?”

“Not much. He taught me so much about fighting that I don’t think he thought that I’d ever be better than him. He busted up my lips a bit but it didn’t even bruise.”

“Didn’t even — he shouldn’t have laid a _finger_ on you.”

“I know, but it really wasn’t that bad. Honestly, he hurt me the most with his fucking face. Made of metal, I’m telling you. Now hitting him? _That_ left a bruise on my hand. Was a bitch to heal properly.”

She sputtered out a shocked laugh. “I’m sorry, but —”

“No, no, it’s okay.” He smiled wetly, knocking his shoulder against hers. With his clogged up voice and pink eyes, she wasn’t inclined to believe him but his sincere smile convinced her. “It’s funny. Kind of. Not really but I’m happy you’re laughing about it and not running away.”

“You stood up for your mom. You defended her and gave your piece of shit father the only accountability he’ll get. Why would I run away?”

“Maya, I —” He screwed his eyes shut, dragging his hands down his face. The muscles in his face tightened. “I beat the crap out of him. My mom kept yelling at me to stop but I couldn’t. I haven’t spoken to him in years —”

“Because I wouldn’t know anything about not speaking to your dad for years, right?”

“Shit, that’s not what I meant, I’m —”

“No, no, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” She leaned back until her back hit his car. She sprawled out, letting her view of only the sky, all of its shades of grey tangled together, each stroke of the clouds, the quiet calm it always held moments before a rainfall, all calm her down. “I get it. It’s not the same but I get it.”

He curled up next to her. Slowly but surely he tucked his cheek into her shoulder. She felt every breath he took, short and shaky. “You’re not afraid.”

“No. I’d never be afraid of you. So this is what Oliver was talking about? How’d he even know?”

“Remember Zay’s kickback last month? It was late and we were all super wasted and playing Truth or Dare and he just, he asked me what’s the worst fight I got into. You were dropping Riley off. Barely anybody was there. I was _wasted_ and everyone else was too. I didn’t think about it but even then, I mean, I figured no one would remember. I just said I fought my dad. He kinda laughed and said that was crazy. He didn’t care until I got the position on the team he wanted.”

“Asshole,” she hissed, clenching her fist.

“I shouldn’t have hit Oliver.”

“Definitely. But can’t say he didn’t deserve it.”

He laughed. 

“And Zay knows?”

“He’s the only person who does. I kept apologizing and saying I knew it was wrong but he just hugged me. Told me to shut up. Said I did the right thing.” He hiccuped and wiped his face. 

A wet spot formed on her shoulder but she didn’t care; what she cared about was that in all the years she’d known Lucas, she’d _never_ seen him cry and it wrecked her but more than anything, it made her want blood. “Zay was right. You did the right thing. You protected your mom.”

“I lied, I — I said they don’t talk to me anymore, but _I_ don’t talk to them, I mean, I keep up with my mom, I visit home when he’s out of town, but — but he’s tried, and I haven’t spoken to him since. I feel _terrible_. Isn’t that the craziest part? Would you feel bad for your dad?”

 _Never._ She would never understand let alone empathize with him for abandoning her and Katy. They didn’t need much. They just needed him to be _there_ but he hadn’t cared. The lack of communication in the past decade meant he still didn’t care to this day.

But she couldn’t say that, not with Lucas looking up at her, his voice torn apart with thick tears, the desperation she wished he didn’t have to feel. “I could,” she lied. “Family’s complicated. It’s never black or white.”

“But it should be. I mean, she’s forgiven him. He hurt _her_ and she stuck with him. If she can do it, why can’t I? But why should _I_ have to? He’s supposed to forgive me for the stupid shit I do, skipping class and sneaking out. I’m not supposed to forgive him for things. He’s not supposed to _do_ anything that needs my forgiveness. Or he should at least know that nothing he can do will ever get me to forgive him. But I … I miss him. That’s the worst part. I miss playing football with him and taking walks with him first thing in the morning and I miss his scratchy old voice and I think I miss him more than I hate him. I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Part of why I never told you is just. Everything with your dad.”

Surely it was inappropriate to _laugh_ but her terrible timing was her trademark. “What do you mean _my_ dad?”

“Your dad. He left you.”

“Did he? Well, thanks for letting me know.” She laughed again and tickled his stomach, prompting him to quit hiding his face behind her hair. “You thought talking about your dad would remind me of mine?”

He shrieked out an involuntary laugh and obliged, scooting back and looking at her again. “Sort of? I guess I just didn’t want to rub it in.”

“Rub what … what the actual hell are you talking about?”

“Well, you know! Complaining about my dad when you have it worse.”

“ _I_ have it worse? Lucas, he —” She couldn’t bring herself to say it as her eyes dropped to his lips. She thought about the Lucas she first met. A freshman with his Austin tan, his small and tentative smile, and the black hoodie he always wore with the thumb-sized hole in the sleeve. She pictured that same kid with a bruised lip. It wasn’t hard, not with how notorious Lucas was for getting into fights in school, but it hurt when she thought about him getting it not from some crackly-voiced, braces-wearing fourteen-year-old but the person who was supposed to protect him. “How do _I_ have it worse?”

“Your dad left you!”

“I know! So?”

“I’m not saying mine isn’t awful but he’s tried apologizing, you know? He’s reached out and he sends me money and I know that if I ever want to talk to him, I can dial his number or take a flight and a bus to his house and he’ll be there. No matter what, I still had a relationship with him, you know? Memories and photos. He got to see me grow up. He —” Lucas winced. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She waited for something. To feel a crushing sadness. A longing for something she had already given up hoping for. A regret for something she didn’t even do. But it never came. As much as she wished her dad had never left, hearing Lucas talk about his dad made her feel nothing for what she was supposed to have with hers. The contradiction made no sense to her but not understanding something wasn’t new to her so she shrugged it off. 

“I honestly don’t see it that way,” she said finally. “I mean, yeah, my dad fucked me up and it hurts if I think about it but I don’t know, it feels easier that he left. It’s not on me to do anything, to forgive him or see him or know where he is. I feel … I feel sad for you. Not me.”

“I feel sad for _you._ I’ve never said it and I’m sorry for that but — but I’m sorry he left, Maya.”

A raindrop fell on Maya’s nose. She didn’t move a muscle. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I know but I think you can be sorry for something you didn’t do. Be sorry that it happened, give an apology that you wouldn’t get otherwise but deserve. You deserve it so fucking much.”

She burrowed herself into his side with such sudden force that he grunted. His letterman jacket was soft against her cheek, the familiar scent of his Axe cologne overwhelming in the best way possible as she buried her face into his chest. Another raindrop fell, landing on her neck. “Thanks. I’m sorry too. You deserved better.”

He pressed a gentle, feather-light kiss against her hairline. “Thanks.”

Distantly, the bell rang. The rain fell, harder and faster with each second. 

“Shit,” Lucas muttered. “You wanna skip or —”

“Or.” Maya rolled over Lucas and jumped off his car. She dusted her pants clean and wiped the smatter of rainwater collecting in her hair.

She gave him a pointed look when he didn’t move. “Are you coming or not? We have class.”

“Yeah, okay. Coming.” He hopped off and joined her in walking back into the school. “You’re coming to Charlie’s tomorrow, right?”

“Think so, yeah.” 

He held the door open for her. “Wanna come with me and Zay then?”

She walked backwards inside, a smile dancing on her lips as she soaked in his offer. Chatter and the footsteps of dozens of students bounced down to this hallway, each passing second another one she didn’t have to change into her gym clothes before class, so she spoke quickly. “Of course. We go every year. Text me.” She nodded and relished in his surprised smile. She dashed towards the girl’s changing room, not without shouting, “Go to class!” over her shoulder.

.

.

.

“We turn around on three,” Zay said. “Ready?”

“Yup.” Maya rocked back and forth, her teeth clattering as another harsh gust of wind passed. It was officially time to switch to her winter coat. Her denim jacket wasn’t enough against the night’s cold nor were the tights she’d worn to compensate for her costume. 

She couldn’t believe that she agreed to what Riley had lent her. She only did it because it was _nice_ of Riley to offer it to her, okay? Maya wasn’t rude. Not that rude. Okay, she was that rude, but she was trying not to be anymore and it had started with that stupid fight in history class with Riley so maybe it continued with accepting Riley’s kindness and taking the damn costume/not-costume.

At almost eight o’clock that Friday night, Lucas and Zay had picked Maya up. In the car ride, they all agreed to wait until they reached Charlie’s place to reveal their costumes to each other. 

“One,” Lucas said.

“Two,” Zay said.

“Three.” Maya spun around, the wet asphalt dampening her shoes dampening. The streetlight lit up all of their figures but she still couldn’t believe her eyes, squinting to ensure she wasn’t having some iced-coffee-induced hallucination that made her _think_ there were two cowboys in front of her.

But no.

She wasn’t hallucinating.

This was real.

“This is it.” Maya clapped her hand over her mouth but even that couldn’t stifle her laughter. “I know it's early, but my life is complete.”

Lucas tipped his cowboy hat. “I’m gonna do this just because I wanna celebrate us being okay again, so … yeehaw.” 

She burst into another fit of laughter and took in every aspect of their outfits. Their matching hats, brown, dorky, and way too big for their heads. The toy lassos strapped to their waists. The red bandana hung around Zay’s neck. Lucas’ boots. It was art. Maya would know.

“What about you, huh?” Even with the streetlight’s dimness, Zay’s grin lit up his face as he nodded at her. “Gonna cheer on the school’s best football players, Miss Cheerleader? That looks exactly like the ones the cheerleaders at school wear.”

“That’s because it is, isn’t it?” Lucas said. “Is that Riley’s?”

“Maybe.” Maya tugged her skirt down. “It’s one of her old uniforms from, like, last year. She let me borrow it.”

“So now you guys are sharing clothes?” 

“Shut up. You and Zay are literally wearing matching cowboy outfits. I won’t be made fun of tonight.”

They began to walk across the parking lot towards Charlie’s apartment complex and naturally fell into a line.

“You’re one to talk about swapping clothes, Luke.” Zay reached around Maya’s back to jab Lucas in the shoulder. “Did he tell you who he lent his letterman to tonight?”

Maya didn’t need to see Lucas to know his face had turned pink. The slight crack in his voice as he said, “It’s Farkle. So?” said it well enough. 

“Hypocrite!” She pictured lanky Farkle Minkus in Lucas’ letterman jacket, how lankier he would look in it. But another image popped into mind and she stopped laughing. “Hold on. Does that mean I’m matching with _Farkle_?” 

Lucas and Zay’s laughter as they walked the rest of the way did not clear anything up for Maya. It just reaffirmed how annoying they were. And how much she liked their laughter, so infectious she couldn’t hold back a laugh of her own even with the absurd thought of her and Farkle, her in Riley’s uniform, Farkle in Lucas’. What a pretty and downright bizarre picture that’d make. 

As long as no one thought they did it on purpose.

.

.

.

“Did you guys match on purpose?”

Maya gritted her teeth. She took a swig of her drink to hide her scowl, happy to let Farkle answer.

“Uh —” Farkle tried to say but the girl, Sara, maybe, continued speaking.

“How would Riley feel about you matching with another girl?” 

Screw hiding her scowl. Maya lowered her cup and fixed Sara with a dry smile. “Riley isn’t paranoid. She trusts her boyfriend and besides, I’m literally wearing _her_ uniform.”

“Just teasing.” Sara promptly turned around and shimmied back into the crowd of people in Charlie’s living room.

Zay, Farkle, and Lucas all stared at her. Leaned against the far-back wall of the room, all with red plastic cups, Farkle the only one with water, and with their heads tilted at her, they were weirdly in sync. Maya would be spooked if she wasn’t feeling so defensive. 

“What? Am I supposed to apologize for her being an idiot?”

“Maybe apologize for that sentence alone,” Zay suggested, unbuttoning his plaid shirt. He fumbled and his cup tipped, spilling a few drops over himself. He didn’t seem to notice. “Actually, nevermind. Sara was being nosy as fuck. What, wearing similar costumes means you’re cheating on Riley now? As if you were that kinda guy.”

“It’s okay. Really.” Farkle grabbed a napkin from the pile on the counter next to them. He dabbed the sides of Zay’s cup and his hands until they were dry. “She was just trynna look out for Riley, I guess?”

“Hell of a way of showing it,” Lucas grumbled. “In what universe would Riley need someone looking out for her because of _you_?”

Farkle balled up the used napkin, settling back in between Zay and Lucas. His expression shifted, turned quiet and almost soft. “That’s … really nice.”

“You don’t have to sound so surprised.” Maya propped her foot up against the wall, looking out at the rest of their classmates spread out across the room. 

“I’m not,” Farkle insisted. “I know Lucas is a good guy. I’m just touched, is all.”

Lucas elbowed Maya. She didn’t bother looking at him. She could go without his disappointed, Please-Be-Nicer look. Instead, she shrugged and stared at the bottom of her cup. “Okay. Lucas is right anyway. As if you’d ever hurt Riley.”

She tuned their conversation out, letting the noise of the room blur together. She knew she should make more of an effort. Try and join their conversation, even if she had no opinion about Disney’s live-action movies and how “soul-sucking and emotionally worthless they were”, according to Farkle.

As for Farkle, she wasn’t trying to be snappish. He was nice. She knew that. She was just tired, in a shitty mood. Could you blame her?

It was one thing to have spent the past hour in a corner of Charlie’s living room, in a group of her, Zay, Lucas, and Farkle, with no sight of anyone she could talk to on her own. Which honestly just meant Riley and Smackle. This wasn’t Smackle’s scene at all, leaving Riley. And out of the little over two dozen of their classmates who were here? None of them was Riley. You could see Maya’s issue. 

She had hoped that when they arrived and spotted Farkle immediately, Lucas’ jacket heavy and loose around him but strangely fitting all the same, that meant Riley was here too. But before Maya even asked, Farkle told her Riley would be coming with Missy within the hour. He had smiled apologetically before he asked how she was doing and she forgot to be annoyed.

Now, though? She was a little annoyed.

Her mind cycled between the same two complaints.

1.) Charlie’s living room was hotter than the fucking sun. She’d removed her denim jacket. Downed several ice-cold cups of beer. Stood with the boys right by the opened window. But that did nothing to combat the relenting heat. She would either die of that or —

2.) Boredom. She had no idea what the boys were talking about. Should she have made more of an effort? Probably. But in her defence, you try interrupting their debate about the millionth Marvel movie that came out this year while having nothing to say yourself and _not_ feel bad about it.

It didn’t help that Charlie didn’t want to start any group-activities — karaoke, Truth or Dare, putting on a terrible horror film and tearing it to shreds together — until after ten when everyone was here and thoroughly wasted. It was a little past nine. Not everyone was here. 

But at least Maya was getting wasted. 

Farkle offered to be their designated driver. It didn’t feel right at first to accept, not when she barely knew him. But with how fucking stressed she was with school, college applications she hadn’t started yet, trying not to look at Lucas and see the shitty things done to him, trying not to look at Zay and wonder _what_ shitty thing had been done to him that had him staying at Topanga’s every single day after school these days, and all of her own shit she was Firmly Ignoring, well —

She felt entitled to one night of forgetting all of that. 

She took one drink after another. Lucas and Zay and most of their classmates got drunk with her. Farkle would drive her home. Riley wasn’t here yet to make her think twice about what she was doing. 

But even if she was here, Maya would just tell her that she was getting into the Halloween spirit. Riley would like the sound of that, wouldn’t she? Maya was even drinking from plastic orange and black striped cups. Pretty damn festive of her.

.

.

“We’re _matching_!”

Maya knew, vaguely, that her squealing and dashing across the room at the sight of Riley was embarrassing. 

But Riley was dressed up as a football player like Farkle except she wore it all — the proper red jersey, thick shoulder pads, and cleats. She looked ridiculous. It was perfect. So Maya didn’t really care that she was jumping up and down now. That from behind her, Lucas, Zay, and Farkle all saw her bursting with excitement. That Missy stood next to Riley, also a member of their school’s football team, and _actually_ matched with Riley.

None of it mattered because Riley was squealing back.

“Is that okay? I hope it’s okay because I thought it might be nice but I didn’t want to tell you what I was wearing in case you thought it was weird, and oh, you’re jumping! I’ll jump with you! You look beautiful!”

“No, _you_ look beautiful!” Did Maya just say that? But that was okay because Riley called her beautiful first. Wait, Riley called her —

“Rie.” Missy touched Riley’s shoulder pad as she side-stepped past her to get inside. “Let’s get something to eat and say hi to Charlie.”

“You go first! I’ll come with you in a minute.” Riley didn’t sound the slightest bit out of breath as she continued jumping up and down. 

Missy gave Riley’s shoulder another squeeze before she started towards the kitchen. Maya felt a flicker of annoyance that Missy didn’t acknowledge her until she felt an overwhelming relief about it instead.

Riley grabbed Maya’s hands and twined their fingers. She didn’t seem to care that Maya’s hands were damp with sweat and drops of beer. 

“Of course it’s okay that we’re matching!” Maya yelled. There wasn’t music playing nor was the room that loud, but it felt like a Yell Worthy proclamation. “It’s kind of cute! You know, you’re also matching with your boyfriend —”

“I am?” Riley’s eyebrows kinked together. She looked over Maya’s shoulder. She stopped jumping abruptly. “Farkle? You look great! I didn’t know you were coming as a football player too. Is that Lucas’ letterman jacket?”

Completely out of breath, Maya stopped jumping too. She closed the front door with her hip and leaned back against it, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Riley.

“Yeah.” Farkle smiled impishly at Riley. “Is that, uh, okay?” 

“Of course. It’s very nice of you to lend it to him, Lucas.”

“Uh. Yeah. No problem.” Lucas ducked his head, fidgeting with his toy lasso. 

“I didn’t know you were also coming as a football player either,” Farkle said. “But your costume is much better than mine.”

“She got it from me,” Zay said. You look amazing, Riley.”

“Thank you again for lending it to me. I have one more favour, though. I’m gonna need a picture with you.” Riley slung her arm around Zay’s back. They met for a half-hug. “It’s not every day you meet a cowboy. You and Lucas look great! Can we all get a picture together, actually? All five of us?”

Farkle tapped the shoulder of a classmate dressed as Joker. “Hey, could you take a few pictures of us real quick?” 

Before Maya could protest, Farkle was passing Joker his phone, Lucas appeared at Maya’s left while Zay opened his arm up for Farkle to step into. Completely separate from the rest of the party, the five squeezed together by the front door. 

It should’ve been uncomfortable. With everyone’s arms and elbows in the way, the added heat of their bodies so close, the stench of their sweat and alcohol, how Maya was still panting, and how close they all were, damp skin sticking to damp skin.

But Maya’s cheek was a breath away from Riley’s. Maya held a protective arm around Lucas’ waist while he tucked his chin over her shoulder. His hat tipped over so she settled it firmly on his head for him. From next to Riley, Zay’s smile was radiant. He smushed his cheek against Farkle’s who, at some point in the past thirty seconds, must have had Zay’s hat forced on him. But he wore it with grace, smiling bashfully at the camera. They were all looking at the camera but Maya was looking at them.

It should’ve been uncomfortable. It wasn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning for mentions of domestic violence: lucas tells maya what happened - the summer before high school, he got into a fight with his father. he overheard an argument between his parents that resulted in his dad hitting his mother, stepped in, fought his dad, and "won". this is why lucas moved to new york and what oliver taunted him with.
> 
> I REALLY HOPE THIS DOESN'T FEEL OUT OF NOWHERE AND DOESN'T FEEL OUT OF PLACE. i worried that this would feel too gimmicky? that it would come across me using domestic violence as some big plot twist and just to stir up drama. i *promise* that's not the case. i was nervous to finally write the talk between lucas and maya but it came out so easily and not to get too personal, but it was very cathartic for me with my own experiences. i've gone back and forth on this part so much but honestly? i like it and i like what it means for lucas and maya, and just. emotionally honest convos! leaning on each other! lucas getting support and maya knowing he trusts her and that she can go to him for the same!
> 
> i would say more but It's Late and my author notes are already way too long AND i'd really love to know your thoughts on it first!!
> 
> the rest of the halloween party = next chapter. comments are always appreciated if you're able to!! have a lovely day. you deserve it. :-)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning for brief, non-descriptive mentions of vomit!!

Maya wasn’t drunk. But she was getting there. 

She knew how to drink responsibly, okay? She just wasn’t sure if she wanted to tonight. It wasn’t an active choice. More of a reflex. An automatic response for every freaking time someone brought up college — the fair, applications, rankings, college this, college that. 

For when Riley asked if Maya was _sure_ she didn’t want to dance, just for a little bit. (Maya said no. She had to stifle the ridiculous urge to say _yes_ because Missy fucking Bradford was attached to Riley’s hip the entire night. )

For whenever she looked at Lucas and felt sick because dads were supposed to be better and neither of theirs was. 

For whenever she looked at Zay and worried and wondered and wished nothing bad would ever happen to him, ever.

Maybe she was a _little_ drunk. But it didn’t help her feel better at all. Didn’t that defeat the purpose of it?

“This isn’t working,” Maya declared, crumpling her half-empty cup. Terrible idea since she crumpled it from the bottom and the remaining beer squirted onto her hands. At least it didn’t drip onto Charlie’s bean-bag chair. “See? It’s not working! That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“What _was_?” Lucas grumbled next to her. Drunk Lucas was never this grumpy. More proof that the alcohol wasn’t working. He sat upright on Charlie’s green bean-bag chair, back to the wall, and stared off at their dancing classmates. 

She ignored him and wiped her sticky hands over her tights. (She would throw them out anyway. Twenty minutes ago, she’d played a heated round of Rock Paper Splits with Zay. Not only did she lose but she also got a coaster-sized hole above her left knee.) “It’s our last Halloween in high school. Doesn’t that mean we should be having fun?”

“This isn’t fun for you?” Zay was laid out on the yellow bean-bag chair on Lucas’s other side. With his cowboy hat half-hanging off his head, his bandana tucked into his flannel shirt, and the way he held his Solo cup with two hands, he looked very cute. “I’m having a grand time!”

Now Maya felt bad.

For about three seconds until Zay said, “Nah, I’m lying. I’m having a mini time. Very mini time. We need to stop moping.”

“We’re not moping,” Maya and Lucas said.

“Yeah, because us sitting on the floor and watching our friends have fun isn’t moping.”

“We’re not sitting on the floor.” Maya smacked the side of her seat. “Do you call this the floor?” 

“I call it close enough.” Zay swung his arm out and patted Lucas underneath his chin. It startled Lucas, tearing his eyes away from their peers. “And I call this moping.”

“Not moping,” Lucas insisted. “Just … observing.”

“That’s somehow worse. You get how that’s worse, right?” Maya’s nose wrinkled. “Who’re you even staring at?”

Lucas craned his head to look at Maya so quickly that his hat fell off. From behind him, Zay tried to catch it with his own head but ended up knocking his hat off too. “I’m not staring at anyone,” Lucas said. “I’m staring at you.” 

“Liar!” Maya accused. “That was an oxymoron!”

Zay stacked both hats together with a pleased smile. “Paradox works better, actually.”

“I’m gonna fail English.” Maya fumbled for her cup and scowled when she found it empty. “You’re right. About the paradox _and_ the moping. Fuck that. I’m done thinking about school and how sad our lives are —”

Zay frowned. “ _Our_?” 

“My life’s not sad,” Lucas said. “… Well —” 

“It’s okay.” Maya stood abruptly. She nearly lost her balance, with one foot on the bean-bag chair and the other on the floor, but she didn’t fall. Not only was she claiming that as a win but as a turnaround for the night. “No more moping. It’s a Halloween party. We’re young. We’re seniors! The three of us haven’t hung out in _weeks_ and —” Her breath hitched but she spoke past it. “Before we know it, we’ll be done high school and we won’t get to hang out whenever so we gotta take use of it!”

“Make use of it,” Lucas said.

“That too! Who’s with me?”

“Senior year, only young once, and it’s Halloween.” Zay’s smile was small but it delighted Maya, prompting her to laugh, knowing before he even said it that he was game. “You make a compelling argument. Alright. Let’s get up. It’s dance time.”

Maya cheered. She readjusted her skirt, the material soft underneath her fingers. She wanted to thank Riley again for lending her uniform. Except Riley was with _Missy_ and _Farkle_ , her best friend and her boyfriend. But that was okay because Maya had _her_ best friend and … Not Boyfriend? Was Lucas still her Not Boyfriend? Was it fair to call them her best friends even if she wasn’t theirs? 

Yeah, no. She wasn’t going there. Not tonight. None of it mattered because even though Maya couldn’t dance with Riley, how could she be sad about that when she could dance with Zay and Lucas?

“Dance time!” Maya repeated, petulantly setting her hands on her hips. She joined Zay in staring flatly at Lucas who didn’t move off his seat.

Lucas tapped the rim of his cup. “I like sitting and drinking time.”

Zay’s mouth dropped. “But you’re my partner.”

“I know, but —”

“And I’m wearing a cheerleading uniform,” Maya whined. “Not just any cheerleading uniform but _Riley Matthews’s_. This’ll never happen again.”

“And you look pretty —”

“How’s this guilt-trip not already working?” Zay tapped his boot-clad foot impatiently. He tore his bandana from his shirt, waved it at their classmates behind them, gestured to it all — the rumble of feet against the floor, the remix of _The Monster Mash_ as the volume raised and mass-cheers ensued, the distinct clicking of a ping pong somehow cutting through all the noise as a cramped game of Beer Pong raged across the room. “This, right now? It’ll be gone sooner than any of us are ready for. And I don’t want future us to go, ‘gee, golly I’m so glad I didn’t just let go and have stupid teenage fun with my friends while I had the chance.’ No regrets!”

“No regrets,” Maya mumbled to herself. For one moment, everything quieted. The thrumming buzz of alcohol in her stopped. She felt every beat of her heart in her chest with startling awareness and thought about how badly she wanted to make each one count. Eight months of high school left. A long time but how long, really? Enough for her to make something of herself? To finally _be_ something, not just a real person, but someone she could be proud of? Really turn things around, get better grades, get into a good college, and walk across that stage in June with certainty, not fear? 

Was she already on her way? 

The moment came and went. She returned to herself and her spot in Charlie’s packed living room, flushed in Riley’s uniform and her throat aching for another drink.

Lucas squinted at Zay. “Gee golly?”

“You know what I mean!”

Maya slotted her arm around Zay’s neck. “Zay’s right. Not that I’m surprised. But if you really wanna sit, Lucas, then that’s okay. Do what’ll make Future You happy.” Bold words from someone who wanted to go to college but refused to think about it. That was Future Maya’s problem. She chose not to see the irony.

She turned to Zay, took his sweaty hands into hers, and laced their fingers. “I’m with you. All the way. Let’s be stupid teens.” His blinding smile met hers. As he gave her a spin, their elbows bumped, her knees knocked against his, and Riley’s skirt twirled with more elegance than Maya had ever had. They broke into laughter. Maya got dizzy with how much affection she had for Zay and she would like to think that that, not the liquid courage in her veins, was what prompted her to fling her arms around his neck. 

He stumbled back. She didn’t let go of him, pulling him upright so he wouldn’t fall. Soon, his arms soon encircled her waist. “What’s this for?” he asked.

“You deserve hugs. All the time.” 

Zay carefully nestled his cowboy atop her head. She felt him smile against her shoulder.

“Screw guilt-trips.” At Lucas’s voice, they stepped back from each other, each opening one arm towards him. He gave them the tiniest of smiles. He unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt and proceeded to stretch his arms above his head. “Y’all should’ve led with that.”

“You sap.” Zay laughed and slapped Lucas’s shoulder. He was the giddiest cowboy Maya had ever seen. “Us _hugging_ won you over? You’re so soft. Lil big softie.”

Maya lifted herself up on her tiptoes, poked her forefinger into his cheek. “You think we’re cute.” 

“Cute and annoying.” But Lucas’s smile got even bigger, especially when Zay poked his other cheek. Maya accepted it for the compliment it was. “Are we gonna stand here and touch my face or are we gonna bust a move?”

“ _Bust a_ —”

“I’m trying, Maya,” Lucas said, mildly pained. “C’mon, I think they’re starting a conga line by the kitchen.” He took each one of their hands into his and effortlessly pulled them through the hoard of people across the room. Maya looked at Zay and they shared a grin. They loved when Lucas did this, just took them by the hand and dragged them along, gentle and strong. A much better form of transportation than walking when he did all the work.

He was right. A conga line started to form by the kitchen. Maya shouldn’t have been surprised by the person they spotted at the front. 

Lucas came to a halt. His hand turned limp in Maya’s. “Farkle? Hey! Funny seeing you here.” 

“You saw him here twenty minutes ago,” Maya said, stunned by the sight of Lucas … flustered?

Farkle stood at the very front of the line, his hands shoved in the pockets of Lucas’s letterman jacket. His shoulders were hunched up to his ears but at the sound of Lucas’s voice, they lowered. His mouth split into a small smile and — oh, wow, he looked flustered too. Maya was missing something. 

She was determined to find out. And she would’ve if she got just a few more moments to observe them. 

But alas, something else came up.

“Great work, everybody! On the count of three, we _go_ and officially become the world’s best freaking conga —”

“Riley!” Maya didn’t even care that she yelled Riley’s name much louder than she had anticipated despite Lucas’s wince and Zay startling so badly his hat fell off for the millionth time. Could you blame her? Was there any other acceptable reaction to finding Riley Matthews walking out of the kitchen, directing a conga line with both seriousness and pep because of course she would, coming towards you, no Missy in sight? 

There wasn’t. Especially not when it earned Riley’s delighted squeal. She squeezed past the front of the line towards Maya. Riley had to be the only person who could wear a bulky football uniform and still look frustratingly adorable.

Maya forgot about figuring out Lucas and Farkle’s Thing. She forgot about everything, really, and just like that, she wasn’t moping anymore. She was skipping towards Riley, her arms stretched out. Their classmates around them stepped back before she could hit anyone in the face, which was good because she’d forgotten about them too.

Maya all but flung herself at Riley and threw her arms around Riley’s neck. She wasn’t even embarrassed. Anyone looking would assume Maya was a drunk idiot which was true. 

But most importantly, Riley didn’t seem to mind from how she hugged Maya back.

Riley didn’t even stumble back with the force of Maya. Just laughed into Maya’s hair and stood her ground. Maya knew that cheerleaders were strong — Riley with the rest of her squad at the football game a few weeks ago was more than enough proof — but she brimmed with satisfaction at seeing it for herself. Could Riley lift her? Carry her around her? Give her a _piggy-back ride_? 

Before Maya could ask, Riley exclaimed, “You’re hugging me!”

“Yes! And Missy’s not around.”

“Yes. Wait, what —”

“And you made a conga line! You’re such a leader. Can I please join?”

Riley pulled back until their faces were a few breaths apart. They were close enough that all Maya could see was Riley. Her messy ponytail that had half of her hair hanging out. Her smudged eyeliner. A shiny sheen of sweat across her forehead. And the football-shaped earrings she hadn’t noticed before. 

Maya wanted to ask if Riley made those with her uncle. But then Riley’s hands trailed up Maya’s back, the gesture so mindless, both gentle and insistent, like Riley herself.

“You’re so polite tonight.” Riley sounded so sincere that Maya couldn’t tell if she was teasing or not. “You said please!”

Nevermind. She was teasing.

Maya tried to dig her fingers into Riley’s sides and tickle her but Zay’s uniform was too thick on Riley for it to work. “Lemme join your conga line, I wanna — oh. It’s conga-ing.”

“Is conga-ing a verb, I don’t —” Riley followed Maya’s line of vision and gasped. “They’re conga-ing without me! _I made you guys_!” 

The line hadn’t gotten far. It hadn’t even fully left the kitchen, classmates popping out from the doorway, one after another, everyone’s hands on everyone’s shoulders. 

Not too far from them, Farkle still manned the front of the line. On either side of him marched Zay and Lucas. Farkle was barely walking on his own, much less leading the line, carried forward by Zay and Lucas. Both boys had one arm linked with Farkle’s, the other pumping fists in the air, their cheers drowned by the rest of the line’s. 

She stared at the boys. At the two cowboys and one football player laughing, Farkle the hardest as he clung to Zay and Lucas, all leading the conga line across the perimeter of the room. Their friendship never made much sense to her, but here, now, it clicked.

Maya glanced around and inadvertently spun in a circle. It made her dizzy, coupled with all the noise and stomping and another fucking remix of _The Monster Mash_ overwhelming her, but Riley’s hand against her back kept her rooted upright and grounded. Besides, it was worth it to realize —

“You got everyone in the line,” Maya yelled to Riley. She looped her fingers around Riley’s wrist and without any finesse, pointed her towards the other end of the kitchen where the very end of the line headed into. “Look at you, Miss Line Maker!”

As Riley beamed, her hands clapped over her mouth, body lifted up onto her tiptoes, her eyes alive with wonder. Maya knew little of stars and the galaxies and the universe. She still mixed up astrology and astronomy. (A fact that had nothing to do with her barely-passing freshman and sophomore science grades, thank you very much.) But you didn’t need to be well-versed in any of that, astrology or astronomy, whichever it was, to know that Maya was right: Riley outshone every one of the universe’s stars. 

“The best conga line in the world,” Riley sighed contently. She leaned her head against Maya’s and tangled their arms. 

Finally, Maya’s ‘Not Yet Worrisome, But Definitely Will Be Soon’ level of alcohol consumption came in handy for the first time tonight. It shut out all the noise in her mind, quieted every dumb worry and insecurity and nagging paranoia, and gave her permission to take Riley’s soft hand into hers and twine their fingers.

“Join the line!” Lucas pointed his and Farkle’s linked arms toward the empty space in front of him, the small gap that kept the conga line from being a circle. 

“C’mon already!” Zay called out. 

Maya could’ve been hallucinating but she swore Farkle’s eyes locked with hers then as he nodded eagerly. He appeared comically tiny as he was swung by and in between Zay and Lucas. A hand clutched around them each, he kicked his feet back and forth as they brought him forward. She would’ve laughed had Riley not held her hand back and squeezed.

Maya thought about how fictitious this all felt. Ripped straight from a coming of age high school film she would pretend to think was dumb or a hazy dream that she’d never mistake for reality because of how simply and stupidly fun it felt. None of it seemed real. 

Everyone circling Charlie’s living room and kitchen, tipsy and verging on drunk seniors in ridiculous costumes. All connected by a set of hands on a set of shoulders, the intermingling noises of feet against the floor and shriek-laughter and scream-singing to _Who you gonna call? Ghostbusters!_ shockingly not unbearable for her ears, but kind of, almost, entirely better music to them instead. Maya, the most Anti-Pep person dressed up as a cheerleader, unable to keep the dumb smile off her face — from her classmates and their stupid, harmless, and unabashed fun that infected her, from the set of cowboys swinging the scrawny quarterback around with the most delighted looks on their faces, and of course, from the football player next to her. The one who lent Maya her old uniform because she was a real cheerleader. One that was loud, earnest, brilliant, and so completely good, whose hand Maya was lucky enough to be holding.

This would all be gone so fast. Much faster than Maya could stand. But she could be sad about that tomorrow.

Not tonight. 

“C’mon, honey,” Maya said, tugging Riley forward towards their friends, their classmates, their people. Riley followed her and together, they closed the gap and turned the conga line into a conga circle. Maya didn’t even flinch when Farkle’s hands shot out and rested on her shoulders. Nor did she hesitate to try and do the same to Riley but when she tried to let go of Riley’s hand, Riley’s grip only tightened. 

So Maya followed Riley’s lead and each extended their free arm out and latched onto the shoulder of the person in front of them. The circle continued to move. Maya nearly tripped over herself to keep up but Riley’s hand kept her upright and going. Maya’s disbelief increased in tandem with her awe — no one had fallen over yet, no one had stepped away, no one had even pulled a phone out yet. It had to be Riley’s determination having seeped into them. Inspired by her, wanting as badly as her to make this as good as possible, and that meant no phones or else that would disrupt the flow of the circle. 

They were all getting along, all unified, seconds away from all holding hands and singing Kumbaya. Maya couldn’t believe it. Riley was a fucking miracle worker. Pure magic.

As they made a lap around the living room, Maya waited until they reached the kitchen to tap her head against Riley’s shoulder to get her attention. It was extremely inefficient. Riley just hummed and rested the side of her cheek against Maya’s head, her hand steady against the Dracula in front of them, pace even steadier. Definitely didn’t get Riley’s attention but it got her soft cheek against Maya, her thumb stroking over Maya’s knuckle, and wow, screw inefficient. Who cared about efficiency now?

But Maya still wanted Riley to know. 

As they looped out of the kitchen, Maya tapped Riley’s forearm. Except Riley didn’t look at Maya. She didn’t grab Maya’s hand back. Her other hand on Dracula dropped and she stepped back, away from Maya and to the wall, so of course, Maya let go of Dracula and stepped out of the circle, because if Riley left, she must have had a good reason to and —

You know, Maya had a good few minutes there. Almost perfect. Why didn’t she see this coming?

Her Missy-free time was up. 

Next to the kitchen’s doorway, Riley and Missy stood close, their heads bent together, Riley nodding eagerly as Missy spoke. Maya didn’t know why she kept looking, why her hand suddenly burned, why it even mattered. Riley had come with Missy. Missy was her best friend. Maya was — something else. Something different. 

Whatever it was, she wasn’t going to be bitter. No one needed that. One night of forgetting and no moping also meant one night without feeling like shit. 

She intended to insert herself back into the circle, maybe perch herself on Lucas’s back and join him, Zay, and Farkle. But the circle had dispersed. There wasn’t even a line anymore. 

Just like that, everyone disconnected, spread out across the room, the synchronous beat of their footsteps and joined voices replaced with a low buzz of conversation as her classmates draped themselves over Charlie’s couches against the walls, on the bean-bag chairs, even on the floor.

“Think the last conga line I was in was fourth-grade gym class. Gotta love public school,” A Princess Peach said. Maya tried to remember the girl’s actual name. In art class, she sat two rows in front of Maya, loved using charcoal, always wore her dark brown hair in a ponytail, and Maya couldn’t even remember her name. 

Peach walked side-by-side with the Joker who’d taken their group-picture earlier. They stopped in front of the kitchen’s doorway by Maya. “Kinda fun though, wasn’t it?” Peach continued. “Felt like I was ten again for a second.”

 _So why did it stop? Why can’t we do it again? Why can’t we just go back?_ Maya wanted to ask. But it wouldn’t give her an answer that she liked, so she crushed the urge. Took in a deep breath until she felt it in her chest. And went into the kitchen for another drink.

.

.

.

“Never have I ever ridden a horse,” Maya said. At the simultaneous groans Lucas and Zay let out, she giggled until she snorted.

Past Charlie’s living room, in the long, spacious, and carpeted hallway connecting the rest of his rooms, Maya, Zay, Lucas, and Farkle sat in a square on the floor. Not completely separate from everyone else, the music still a distant but present soundtrack to their conversation and people passing by to use the washroom, but still on their own. On their own together. The thought made Maya fuzzy all over.

“Riding horses isn’t uncommon,” Zay protested. “You both seriously haven’t ridden one before?”

Sitting directly across from Farkle, Lucas nudged Farkle’s foot with his own. “All those fairs you went to as a kid and you never once went, _ooh, pony_?”

Maya scoffed. “Ponies aren’t horses … wait, Farkle, are ponies —”

“Good question,” Farkle said. He had this amused little smile on since they started playing Never Have I Ever fifteen minutes ago that widened just a bit at Maya’s question. She’d hate being the only sober one in a group of drunk morons but he didn’t seem to mind. A nice guy like Farkle, he was probably just that sweet. Or maybe he liked these drunk morons too much. She hoped it was the latter. “They’re both equines, but —”

“Nevermind,” Maya said as Lucas went, “Ooh, what’s an equine?”

Farkle chuckled. He nudged Lucas’s foot back. “I’ll explain later. Diagrams and everything.”

“I love diagrams,” Lucas exclaimed. “They’re cool.”

Zay’s mouth twitched as if he, like her, was fighting the urge to laugh. She didn’t know what was so funny about it. How bold a lie it was, how truthful it seemed from Lucas anyway. It would be easy to elbow Lucas and make fun of him and bring up their terrible science grade from freshman year, namely how what diagrams they _did_ attempt at always resulted in failing grades. But Farkle didn’t catch on to Zay and Maya’s terrible attempts at hiding their laughter — he lit up, his smile wider as he tilted his head.

“Really?” Farkle asked. “You think diagrams are … cool?”

“Totally. They’re like art. Maya’s an artist, you know. I’m into her art.”

Maya’s eyebrows scrunched up. “You _are_?”

“‘Course,” Lucas said, and oh, this was completely honest. From how often and mindlessly she doodled, she figured, vaguely, they took notice of it but never that they took _interest_ in it. “Your doodles in your notebook and on napkins and stuff. They’re amazing. Zay and I were really happy when you finally took art as a class this year.”

Zay nodded. He untucked his knees from underneath him, sat with his legs spread out and touched both sets of toes. How ridiculously adorable, him doing his football stretches. Did he know how ridiculously adorable he was? Maya opened her mouth to tell him but then Zay said, “You’re, like, an artist. And we love that about you.”

Maya hoped she wouldn’t forget any of this tomorrow. “You love things about me.”

Lucas clutched his chest. “Did you think we _hated_ things about you?” 

“No! But —” She scrambled to set her drink next to her feet. She sat up on her knees, pushing her hair out of her face. She’d wanted to tell Riley how magical she was but couldn’t, not with Riley lost to Missy across the apartment, so that was already one opportunity at saying something right gone. She wouldn’t waste another. “I love things about you guys _too_! You’re both the bestest football players, even though I don’t get the sport, but like, I can obviously tell that you’re really good, don’t question that, and uh, you’re nice and funny and not annoying and smart and seriously the best guys I know and I’m gonna stop now because this is weird but yes!” She sat back on the floor, her knees hugged to her chest, and pressed her lips against the rim of her cup without drinking. “And Farkle, you’re nice. I dunno why I thought you wouldn’t be.”

“Thank you?”

“You are very welcome.”

Zay scooted over until he sat next to Maya. “Maya thinks we’re the best guys.”

“She thinks we’re not annoying,” Lucas added, leaning over Maya to bump Zay’s fist. “We’re not annoying!” 

“Back to the game, please?” Maya lifted her cup and rattled it between Lucas and Zay. She expected to feel more embarrassed than she did which was to say she didn’t feel embarrassed at all. How could she, with how goddamn radiant they were, all giggly and smiles and pure sunshine, and knowing she had some part in that? 

But it still felt odd. Not bad but different, a newness she couldn’t take for too long at once. 

“Never have I ever thought diagrams were —” 

Zay interrupted her. “Never have I ever _skipped everyone else’s turn_! You just went. It’s Farkle’s turn.”

“Shit!” Maya’s eyes widened. She crawled out from in between Lucas and Zay and inched over to Farkle’s side. “Farkle, I’m so very sorry.”

Farkle wore that amused smile again. “Don’t be. I liked that prompt. I’ll steal it. Never have I ever thought diagrams were cool.”

“That’s exactly what I was going to say.” Maya gave his shoulder an approving boop with her forefinger. “You brilliant boy.”

Lucas laughed, popped open a can of beer, and filled his Solo cup. He raised both eyebrows at Farkle. “Drink up with me, genius.” 

“You’re really committed to this bit, aren’t-cha?” Zay said. 

“It’s not a bit,” Lucas insisted. “I really think diagrams are cool!”

They kept playing, taking turns one after another. By the time it reached Maya again, she just said, “Never have I ever been to a high school football game.”

Zay stuck his thumb down. “Boo.” 

“You have to drink to that too,” Farkle pointed out.

“I know that!” Maya huffed, thankful that Lucas wordlessly sipped his drink and nudged Zay’s cup towards him. “The point of this game is to _drink_ , isn’t it?” 

“Exactly! Mind if we join you?”

At the new, cheerful voice, the taste in Maya’s mouth turned sour. Their little corner had been invaded. Everywhere she fucking went, Missy Bradford seemed determined to show up and aggressively _be there_ in the same space as Maya. But you know what would be different about this time? Maya wouldn’t leave. 

At least Missy’s presence guaranteed something good.

Riley ran up behind Missy, slinging one arm across her best friend’s back. “I have juice-boxes!” She lifted an eight-pack of apple juice-boxes that she nearly dropped while exclaiming, “Maya! Farkle! You guys are _together_.”

Maya sat straighter, wiping her sticky hands on her tights. She tore another hole, this one above her ankle, but didn’t mind. “No, you and _Farkle_ are together.” She smiled, pleased at Riley’s cackle-like laughter. “Did you have something to drink?”

Riley shook her head. She fixed her grip on the juice-boxes, cradling it with both arms. “Nope. After Zay’s kickback and that mess, I promised my parents I would be as sober as … I don’t know where I was going with that but I haven’t had a drop of anything other than water and juice. Farkle too!” 

In perfect tandem, Riley and Missy knelt and joined them on the floor. Missy hopped over to Lucas and Zay’s side and with a bright smile, she made small-talk with them. Maya tried to listen in, unable to fathom the concept of Lucas and Zay having a _pleasant_ conversation with Missy, but then Riley sat in front of Maya and Farkle and she forgot all about that.

“I noticed that,” Maya said. “He’s been drinking water the entire game which is very unfair. We play and make ourselves dumber and he just gets more hydrated. You should take the juice-boxes instead. Get a sugar high.”

Riley nodded approvingly. She tore the plastic seal off the juice-boxes and tossed one into Farkle’s lap. “It’s equitable. Just ‘cause we’re taking care of these goofs tonight doesn’t mean —”

“Hold on.” Maya pointed her finger into Riley’s shoulder pad. It hurt but she poked Riley again anyway. “You’re not taking care of us.”

Farkle stabbed his straw into his juice box. “We’re supervising you?”

“I don’t like that either.”

“We’re … keeping an eye on you,” Riley tried.

“I don’t need an eye kept on me!”

Riley properly sat on the carpet, one leg tucked under the other, and thumbed the most-recent hole in Maya’s tights. Her finger against Maya’s bare skin was unbearably warm. “You have four holes in your pants. You need an eye kept on you,” Riley announced. “It’s not a chore for us. Farkle and I are having fun, right?”

“Right,” Farkle said. “I’m having a nice time.”

“I am keeping an eye on you ‘cause I want to. Okay?” 

“Okay,” Maya whispered. When Riley smiled at her, Maya weakly smiled back and felt — she didn’t know what she felt. Just that she did.

“So, can we join?” Missy sat in between Zay and Riley, bridging the six teens into a circle. She held her nearly-full Solo cup with both hands. At some point, Missy had removed her football jersey and draped it over her lap. 

“‘Course you can,” Zay said with an easy smile. “The more the merrier.”

“Perfect.” Missy leaned forward, looked past Riley, and locked eyes with Maya. Even with Riley in between them, Missy still felt too close. Maya couldn’t afford to do something stupid but knowing that didn’t take away the urge. Sitting on her left, her knee digging into Maya’s thigh, her shoulder-pad continuously grazing Maya’s shoulder, and with her nearly-finished juice-box right next to Maya’s cup, Riley was a good reminder, though. To not fuck up. To remember that somehow, Riley and the rest of the circle here saw actual _good_ in Missy and that had to mean something.

“This’ll be a great way to get to know you better, Maya.” Missy tilted her head to the side, gave Maya an almost-smile that nearly broke Maya’s Bullshit Radar. “Gotta see what has Little Rie here so charmed.”

“What, I haven’t charmed you already?” Maya dragged Riley’s cheerleading skirt further over her knees and shrugged. “That’s fine. Got the rest of the night to win ya over.”

“Okay!” Riley shouted with a clap, drawing everyone’s attention. “Let’s get started. Never have I ever been on a football team.”

Lucas and Zay’s spines shot up. They stared at each other in disbelief. Zay shook his head. “Oh, c’mon —”

“You guys are just harassing us at this point —”

“If you want my liver, I can just cut it out and give it to you —”

“Yeah!”

“Yeah!”

“We’d prefer you drink your liver away, actually.” Farkle spread his leg out, footed Zay’s knee. “Don’t worry. We can target cheerleaders next.”

Riley leaned over Maya and half-heartedly swatted at Farkle’s arm. “We’ll just target Chemistry Club presidents.”

“You’re the president of the Chemistry Club?” Maya sputtered.

Farkle scratched the back of his neck. “Uh, yes? It’s really not as lame as it —”

“It’s not lame at all,” Riley and Lucas said sharply. 

“That’s not what I meant,” Maya clarified, her face heating up. She pulled on the sleeve of his letterman jacket insistently. “It’s fucking _cool_. You have power. Over chemists! That’s, like, the first step to world domin — world domin — _world domination._ ”

Farkle didn’t seem to mind that she kept tugging on his sleeve nor that she had just accidentally spat on his chin. He really was the nicest. “You think it’s cool?” 

“Really cool! But not in the fake way Lucas thinks diagrams are cool.”

“It’s not _fake_ ,” Lucas argued. “You know what? Never have I ever thought Chemistry presidents were cool.”

Everyone drank. 

“You knew that would happen, didn’t you?” Zay said.

Lucas lowered his cup and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes twinkled with a hint of a smile as he looked at Farkle. “‘Course I did. Just thought we should all drink for our first round together.”

“How sweet,” Missy said. “I’ll go next. Never have I ever been sent to the principal’s office.”

Maya caught Lucas’s eyes as they both drank. This would be a long night.

.

.

.

Somehow, every one of Missy’s prompts were all things Maya had done.

“Never have I ever … skipped class every day for a week … failed an exam … snuck out of the house past midnight … drank on school grounds …” 

But Maya kept her cool. Everyone was having a great time. This must’ve been what their lunches were like, the five of them in the cafeteria, picture-perfect with a pair of football players, the captains of the cheerleading squad, and an adorkable nerd to top it all off — Maya wouldn’t ruin that. She had a place here, as mismatched as it was. And with the slow cloud of alcohol settling in, draping over her like a familiar and worn-out blanket, coupled with Riley’s knee resting over Maya’s thigh and how every time Riley laughed, which she did often, she would touch either Maya’s shoulder or back and let her hand linger for a few beats before pulling away — all of it made it easier to remain calm every time Missy opened her mouth.

Well. It made it easier almost every time. 

.

.

.

Riley and Farkle forced them all to switch to juice-boxes shortly after, cutting them off but not stopping the game. 

“This is a really great way to get to know everyone better,” Riley said brightly. “Don’t you think?”

“For sure,” Missy agreed. “Like I had no idea it was possible to drink that much and _not_ puke it all out. Your endurance is incredible, Maya.”

Maya smiled placidly around her straw. “The night is still young. There’s still time. But I’m impressed too! Like. Like how on earth you’re not sweating buckets right now. Your face is dryer than, like, a desert.” _That wasn’t an insult!_ “It’s … worrying.” _Better._

Riley sighed. Like Missy, she had long since discarded her football jersey and had it leaned against her back. Riley rested her head against Missy’s shoulder and Missy curled her arm around Riley’s back naturally, like muscle-memory for them both. 

“Missy is blessed,” Riley said. “She barely sweats. She and Lucas are on opposite ends of the spectrum.”

Lucas grunted his assent. He dabbed his forehead with his folded napkin, the equivalent of trying to mop up a flood. His sweat had partly drenched through his shirt, dripped down his cheeks, and flushed him pink. Poor guy. Probably why Farkle half-frowned, half-chuckled, tossing another juice-box into Lucas’s lap.

During this game, Maya had learned many things about Missy. More things than she had ever wanted to know like:

Her straight-As dating back to kindergarten. Her and Riley’s decade and a half long friendship, cemented by their fucking matching _lockets,_ which was the story behind Riley’s sunflower locket. How she not only did sports, basketball and volleyball primarily, but sang and baked too. Maya hated a person who ran an Instagram account dedicated to rainbow cupcakes and heart-shaped brownies. What the fuck.

What had Missy learned about Maya? Oh, that Maya had been suspended before because of the next fun thing Missy had learned about Maya — that Maya and Lucas got caught in the sophomore year for drinking after she’d gracefully spilled their water bottle in the school’s downstairs hallway. And that Maya was generally a disaster, though Missy had probably long since suspected that.

“We are really different, aren’t we?” Missy stretched out the last word and smiled lazily at Lucas. “Like I’ve never gotten into a fight before. Full-on fists and blood and —” She narrowed her eyes, made fists with both hands, and punched the air. “Boom. Pow! _Bam_.” 

Maya squeezed her juice-box hard enough that it shot drops of juice onto her lap but she didn’t care. Not when pure red clouded her vision and she had to tuck her fists underneath her legs to keep from springing forward and hissing, _If you’ve never been in a fight before, then we can certainly fucking change that!_

Riley’s face fell. Her mouth twisted downwards as she sat up and gently lowered Missy’s hands. “Miss, Lucas isn’t —”

“No, it’s fine,” Lucas said. It wasn’t. Not one bit. He smiled tightly, gave a shrug of his stiff shoulders. “I mean, it’s true. I’ve never gone a semester without getting into a fight.”

“ _What?_ ” Farkle blurted out. “No way. What? No. You can’t have gotten suspended that often without getting expelled.”

“For sure,” Lucas said. “Only if you get caught every time.”

Zay patted his chest. “I wanna say I’m proud ‘cuz you’re never an asshole about it and you get into fights with _good_ reasons but that’s probably. Probably like a mixed message, right?”

Lucas cracked out a loud and bubbly laugh. He grabbed the back of Zay’s neck and the pair met in the middle, bumping their foreheads together.

“Every semester,” Missy repeated with feeling. “Wow. That’s some record.”

Maya dug her fingers into the carpet floor. “Riley, whose turn is it now?”

“Yours,” Riley said slowly. Maya heard the hint of warning in Riley’s voice, definitely felt it with the hand Riley pressed against Maya’s knee. If she were better, she would have listened to it. Probably.

“Great.” Maya lifted her chin, idly twirled her straw, and looked right at Missy. “Never have I ever fucking threw _candy_ into my best friend’s hair and humiliated her in front of, like, thirty people and then _ditched_ her at a party when she was drunk and had no way to get home by her —” 

She stopped abruptly. Not out of the goodness of her heart, the slow crumbling of Missy’s expression and the tremor in her chin too good to feel bad about.

No, it wasn’t guilt or anything stupid like that. It was probably karma. What Maya specifically did to deserve this, she didn’t know, but — wait, actually, yes, she knew, and it was her fault. Surprise surprise.

“Maya?” Riley’s soft voice and softer hand rubbing her back almost overrode the nausea climbing up her stomach. Almost. 

Maya’s jaw twitched. She shut her mouth, screwed her eyes shut, tried to focus on how gently Riley was touching her as if that would save her from her terrible life choices. She really couldn’t have insulted Missy earlier, huh? Before her drinking caught up to her?

“Oh god, Rie, she’s gonna _throw up_.”

“Miss, she’s not gonna —”

Maya’s eyes flew open. Her hands clutched her stomach as it flipped. Puking over Missy would really make up for all the stupid shit Maya had to endure from her tonight and for the call-out Maya couldn’t get to finish but Maya had _just_ enough self-preservation not to make that big of an idiot of herself and not risk everyone seeing her vomit.

That horrifying scenario gave her enough coordination to jump to her feet and run down the hallway. She burst into Charlie’s bathroom. Dopped to her knees in front of his toilet. Cursed herself for being this big of a fucking idiot. And hurled.

.

.

.

Maya tried to tell Zay and Lucas to leave. A difficult task with all the puke expelling out of her mouth. 

“Stop trynna talk.” Squatting to her right, Lucas held her hair back and rubbed her back. 

She tried to bat Zay’s hand away as he pushed stray hairs away from her forehead. He huffed from her left. “Not like this is the first time we’ve seen ya throw up. Don’t worry. It’ll be over soon. Try and calm down.”

“’m sorry —” she tried to get out.

“Stop. You don’t gotta be. We’re here,” Lucas whispered, breath warm against the back of her head. “It’s okay.”

It wasn’t. It really wasn’t. Everything hurt, her breath tasted awful, her eyes stung with tears, her dumb body was trying to kill her, she wouldn’t get into college, she was going to and already was disappointing her mother, she had either already reached her peak or this _was_ her peak and both thoughts terrified her, and Missy goddamn Bradford was down the hall, laughing with Riley and Farkle and making a crack about how Maya really couldn’t handle her beer that well after all.

They should leave her be and have a good rest of the night. It was nearing one in the morning. They had time to be stupid teenagers for a little longer. They deserved it. She wanted them to know that. She _needed_ them to know that, and that if the roles had reversed and they were bent over Charlie’s toilet, vomiting their organs out, that Maya would be here, rubbing their backs, and —

Oh. Maya might have understood it better now.

.

.

.

“You guys really don’t have to —”

“Shut up.” Maya sort of wanted to cry again at Zay’s voice, at how much he and Lucas refused to leave while she waited on the bathroom’s floor to ensure another round of vomiting wouldn’t ensue. Her nausea had settled but from experience, a few minutes of Not Feeling Like Garbage didn’t guarantee she was done for the night. 

They sat in a line against the wall furthest from the door. Maya should probably feel grosser about sitting right next to the toilet, even if she had flushed it. But she was too worn-out and emptied to really care. 

She stared at her orange socks, ugly bright against the white tiled-floor. “Thank you. For bein’ here. Literally here and also, like. Here here. In the world here. You guys make it suck a lot less.”

Zay slotted his head in the space between her neck and shoulder. She leaned her head against his, trying hard not to cry again but for completely different reasons this time. 

On Zay’s other side, Lucas cleared his throat. “Missed you a lot this past month. Don’t wanna ever do that again.”

Zay mumbled his agreement.

“Deal,” Maya said softly, so softly she didn’t know if they heard her. But Zay burrowed his head closer to her. Lucas murmured something that sounded like _good_. She stared at the ceiling, tuned in to the distant bass of the music across the floor, and let herself relax.

_Knock knock._

“Maya? I brought some water and gum. If you want I can just leave it by the door and go —”

Maya perked up at Riley’s voice. “Do I have any vomit on my face?” She whisper-shouted to Zay and Lucas as she haphazardly fixed her hair, smoothing it down and pushing it behind her shoulders.

Zay gave her a thumbs-up. “You’re good.”

“You can come in, Riley.”

The door opened. Riley slid inside and shut it with her back, lifting a bottle of water and a packet of bubblegum flavoured gum. Upon meeting Maya’s eyes, her face quieted, her smile small and warm. Maya searched Riley’s eyes for pity. Sympathy. Disgust, maybe. But she only found aching sincerity. 

“Hey,” Riley said, the quietest Maya had ever heard her speak. She walked across the bathroom, bent in front of Maya, and met her at eye-level. “How ya feeling?”

“Like shit. Little less shitty now, though.”

“Good.” Riley’s eyes darted past Maya to Lucas. “Lucas, I’m sorry for what Missy —”

Lucas stuck his hand out and tapped Riley’s elbow. “Nope. No. No sorries. She didn’t even say anything that wasn’t _true_. It’s fine, Riley. Promise.”

“Still. Missy didn’t mean it like that, she just — says the wrong thing, sometimes, but she tries her best. And, okay, she _will_ say sorry to you as soon as you step outta here, and no, I didn’t _make_ her, but I did coach her through what to say, so it’s genuine! I swear.”

Lucas chuckled. “Thank you, Riley.”

“No need to thank me.”

The pleasant air between Riley and Lucas relieved an anxiety Maya didn’t know she had. She hadn’t realized how much she needed them to like each other. She’d known, abstractly, that they had. But seeing it with her own eyes? That was different. Better.

“Should probably go talk to Missy then.” Lucas shakily rose to his feet. “Maya, you —”

“Go, Texas.” Maya flopped her arm in the direction of the door. “Get your sorry. I’m all good.”

Zay lolled his head off of Maya. He joined Lucas and stood, dusting his pants off. “You two okay on your own? I should tell Charlie what happened, just give him the word that no one should come in here for a little while.”

Maya had managed to not make a mess anywhere outside of the toilet. It didn’t stop her wave of guilt. “Tell him I’m sorry.”

“Everyone’s gotta knock it off with the apologies. You know Charlie. He’ll just wanna make sure you’re okay.”

“Go ahead.” Riley crawled into the space Zay had left. She extended her legs, her right brushed against Maya’s left. “I got her.”

Maya kind of wanted to cry again. She didn’t really understand why something so sweet and simple like what Riley had said would make tears spring to her eyes but then again, she never really understood herself. Trying to start now, on the floor of Charlie Gardener’s bathroom with the taste of her vomit staining her mouth, would make even less sense. 

“We’ll be back,” Lucas said right before he closed the door, followed by Zay’s call of, “Don’t throw up again!”

Once Lucas and Zay left, Maya rubbed her eyes, her shoulders trembling. “I should say sorry.”

“I kinda agree with Lucas,” Riley murmured. “Too many sorrys for tonight.”

“Are you mad? ‘Bout what I started to say to Missy?”

“Maya —”

“‘Cuz I know I should — I should try more since she’s your friend and all, but when she said that to Lucas, which I know made him feel bad even if tried to act like it didn’t, I thought about how she made _you_ feel bad, and how you don’t deserve to feel bad, and it’s not — not fair that everyone feels so bad all the time. Why does everyone feel so bad all the time?”

Riley’s mouth pressed into a thin line. Her sniff came out barely audible but didn’t go unnoticed. Damn. Now she’d gone and made Riley feel bad too. “Not everyone feels bad all the time,” Riley insisted, sliding her hand over Maya’s knee. “At least. I don’t think so.”

“It’s just — there’s so much I can’t do anything about, you know? There’s so much I wanna fix, so much I’m supposed to be able to fix, but I’m always failing —”

“Hey, don’t say that —”

“But it’s true. I tried to do something right and defend you and I ended up throwing up and probably humiliating you like Missy. I’m like Missy! And I got vomit on your uniform. I’m so sorry.”

Riley laughed wetly. She scooted closer until they were pressed from their hips to their toes. “I don’t care about the uniform. It’s okay, Maya. I promise.”

“I just.” Maya was seconds away from exploding with all the things she didn’t know how to say but needed to get out. Her breathing quickened, her throat closing up. But she couldn’t make the words stop. “I always thought it was easier not to care, so I just, I didn’t, but now that I’m — that I’m actually trying, it’s like, fuck, caring is so hard. I care about so much, about everything, all the time, for all of you, and it makes me so sad, that you guys can’t always be happy, that I can’t do anything about it. Mom and Lucas and Zay and you, it’s not fair. None of it is! And I thought if I cared enough about school, it would fix everything, but I’m still barely passing English, and I’m fucked for college apps, and it’s just — a mess! Too much for me to clean up!”

Only when Riley cupped Maya’s jaw and wiped her cheek did Maya notice the stream of tears rushing down her face. She still tensed up, tears still spilled from her eyes, and she still couldn’t catch her breath. But Riley’s kind eyes and her patiently drying Maya’s tears made it easier to breathe. 

“Caring is really hard,” Riley agreed. “But it’s so worth it. Don’t ya think?”

“I just —” Maya hiccuped while Riley nodded as if anything Maya said made sense. “I dunno if I’m doing it right. If I’m doing _any_ of it right, Riley, I don’t —”

Riley looped her arms around Maya’s back and pulled her in, reassuring murmurs lost in Maya’s hair as Riley held her close. It should’ve been too much. Maya still wasn’t fully settled from all her puking, her face was blotchy, tears clogged her throat and kept coming out in full-force, and her skin felt all itchy and uncomfortable. Maya wanted so badly to step out of it and be someone else. Just for an hour or two. Riley shouldn’t have had to deal with all of this.

But melting into Riley’s strong arms was so easy, like everything with Riley — talking to her, being around her, liking her. Maya didn’t want Riley to let go of her. More than anything, she didn’t want to let go of Riley either, but it seemed like she had no reason to be afraid. Riley’s arms tightened around Maya as she pressed a soft kiss against her forehead. 

Maya didn’t hesitate. She winded her arms around Riley’s neck and hid her face into Riley’s shoulder. She’d apologize for getting her snot all over Riley later. Right now, she focussed just on this. Closing her eyes, syncing her breathing with Riley’s, letting her silent tears fall as she breathed Riley, steady, solid, magical Riley, in. 

“It’s okay not to know. I know I never do,” Riley murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind Maya’s ear. “But for what it’s worth? I think you’re doing good. I think you’re doing so, so good.”

Maya shuddered out another sob. She let Riley continue to hug her and let herself continue to hug her back.

_._

_._

_._

Maya avoided her reflection in the elevator mirror, fixating instead on Riley’s reflection. She came to the conclusion that yes, Riley did always look wonderful. Even at half-past one with her hair out of place, smudged eyeliner, and an oversized brown wool coat hung over her shoulders. It didn’t prick her with jealousy but enveloped her instead with another layer of appreciation for Riley. 

Lovely, lovely Riley who dried Maya’s tears. Helped take the crushing weight off of Maya’s shoulders. Gave her a beautiful smile and with it, the ability to smile back. Got kind Farkle to drive her home and came for the ride herself, sitting with Maya in the backseat. Asked Maya who’d be home waiting for her and as soon as Maya said no one, Katy working another night-shift, gave Maya an offer which, at that moment, she couldn’t refuse, couldn’t even pretend to think twice about or bother turning it down to be polite.

At this moment, though, Maya’s doubts made an unwelcome return.

“You sure your parents won’t mind?” 

“Have you met my dad? You think he’d mind?”

“This is — it’s different. ‘M his student and if I throw up, they’ll —”

Riley’s expression slipped. “Maya, if you’re not comfortable, I can ask Farkle to come back, maybe take you to Lucas’s ins —”

“It’s not that.” Maya clasped one of Riley’s hands between both of hers without thinking about it. That’s what Riley Matthews did to you. She showed you how easy it could be, to just hold someone’s hand, to treat touches like these like they were both sacred and best in abundance, and passed the reflex onto you without you even noticing. Maya noticed now. It didn’t bother her. “I just don’t want you to feel like you’ve gotta do this really nice thing ‘cuz I cried all over you and I don’t want your parents to get mad at you for bringing a drunk idiot home. Don’t feel like you’ve gotta go out of your way, okay?”

The elevator stopped. Beeped. And opened its doors to Riley’s floor.

Riley didn’t look away from Maya. That trademark determined glint of hers sparked in her eyes. “Going out of my way is my way. I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to, but if _you_ don’t want —”

“I want.” 

Riley’s eyes crinkled with a smile. Her hand in Maya’s led them out the elevator, down the hall. Maya didn’t know if this was the right call or not but the warmth spreading from where Riley’s fingers touched hers didn’t feel wrong at all.

_._

_._

_._

Riley let them in with her key. Maya braced herself but neither Cory nor Topanga appeared.

“Mom? Dad?” Riley kicked her shoes off and left them by the door. Maya followed her lead, shutting the door behind her, and took the time to look around. Riley’s home was exactly like Maya would have expected. Dozens of family pictures strung up, a matching furniture set surrounding the television, flower-themed throw pillows, paintings, knickknacks, colours, all everywhere. All this space but it still felt cozy. Lived-in. Undoubtedly a home.

Maya hovered awkwardly by the largest sofa as Riley skipped into her kitchen. “What did ya tell your parents, exactly? Do they know that I’m not Entirely Sober?”

“Oh, you know.” Riley shrugged her jacket off and draped it over a chair. “They don’t know you’re here.”

“ _WHAT_ —”

“So don’t worry! They won’t know that you’re —”

“We won’t know what?”

Maya closed her eyes. _To whoever’s listening,_ she thought, _please may I not fuck this up_. 

When she opened her eyes again, she found Topanga and Shawn in the kitchen. Both wore flannel pyjama pants, Topanga in a large grey shirt that Maya could only imagine belonged to Cory, and Shawn in an equally large maroon shirt that — was that Cory’s too? Or was Topanga wearing Shawn’s shirt? Or — god, this did not matter more than the fact that she was in Riley’s kitchen and Riley’s mother was looking at her.

“Hi, Maya. You two had fun?”

“The funnest,” Maya said. “Riley didn’t drink at all.”

“Why would you say it like that,” Riley said, pained. 

“What! It’s _true_!”

Topanga smiled with her eyes. She stepped away from Shawn’s side, and subsequently the hand he rested against her back — Maya formed half a thought about that, which entirely consisted of _what,_ but before she could think harder, Topanga walked past the dining table to Riley and kissed her head. “Don’t worry, Riley. We believe you.”

Riley smiled hazily and gave her mother a one-armed hug. “Aw, but I was looking forward to more lectures about responsibility and the importance of making good choices.”

Shawn started the kettle. He leaned against the kitchen counter, yawning into his hand. “Be responsible. Make good choices. There you go. Happy?”

“The happiest.”

Shawn sent Riley a sleepy smile before looking at Maya. “Hey, Maya. Good to see you again. How ya doing?”

Maya straightened. She tilted her head up, smoothed down Riley’s skirt. “Good. Great. Had a nice time with Riley.”

“Aw,” Riley said. 

Maya rolled her eyes. “You knew that already.” 

“Yeah, but you can say it again.”

“I had a really good time, honestly, you made my night, and —”

“I didn’t think you’d actually — I did?”

Topanga met Shawn’s eyes. Shawn chuckled before he faced the kitchen sink and started the kettle.

Riley didn’t notice, too busy beaming at Maya. 

“I can say it again if you want,” Maya whisper-shouted.

“Yes, please. But first …” Riley tapped Topanga’s shoulder. She tipped her head towards the hallway past the kitchen. “Can we talk for a sec?”

“Course. We’ll be back soon,” Topanga said to Maya before she and Riley walked out of the kitchen together.

 _Don’t leave,_ Maya wanted to burst out. Every step Riley took further away from her worsened her panic. 

But then Riley threw Maya a clumsy attempt at a wink, both of her eyes twitching much longer than necessary, over her shoulder before she and her mother left.

Maya’s nervousness disappeared.

“Want a cup of tea?” Shawn asked. He had four mugs lined in front of the kettle. “Gonna make some before we all head off to bed.”

“Yes, please. Thank you. Is, uh, Cory — Mr. Matthews asleep?”

“He always knocks out early on Fridays. The week just catches up to him.”

“I get that.” She rubbed her eyes, stifling a yawn. Every part of her body ached. She needed a shower, to brush her teeth, to change her clothes, at least take off her denim coat, but it felt too awkward, with just her and Shawn in the Matthews’s kitchen, so she didn’t. Riley would be back soon, anyway. And if Topanga was okay with it, Maya would get to sleep tonight off, and — wait, where would she sleep? Guest room? The Matthews’ seemed like the type to have a guest room. Definitely wouldn’t let Maya sleep on the couch. But how likely was it that Maya would take Riley’s room? Share _beds_?

To distract herself from _that_ thought, she asked, “Were you and Mrs. Topanga waiting for Riley?”

“Mhm. But we’re usually up this late on Fridays. Movie night.”

“What was tonight?”

“ _Scream_. In honour of Halloween. Even if it is already November.”

A hazy memory she completely forgot about rose to the surface. Her, at seven, pretending to be asleep on her mother’s lap as her parents watched the movie. She made it nearly the entire film but as soon as the killers’ reveal played out, she broke into tears.

 _No!_ She had screamed, causing Katy and Kermit to scream, which, fair. _He’s her boyfriend! How could he do that to her?_

 _You said there was no way she was awake,_ Katy had groaned, burying her face in Kermit’s shoulder. 

_She got drool on my knee!_ Kermit had insisted. _Kinda cool though, ain’t it? She’s a brilliant actress. Just like her momma._

 _I had to make it real! But you’re not listening!_ Maya was very distressed. She glared at the television screen. _How could he do that to her?_

Katy made soothing sounds, running her fingers through Maya’s hair. Kermit told her, _Some people are just evil. But you don’t have to worry about that. You’re safe._

Maya didn’t like thinking about her father much. Especially about how there were genuinely good moments with him. That saddened her more than thinking about all the bad. It would be easier if he had been entirely terrible. The thought made her sick.

“Sounds like a nice night,” Maya said quietly. “Um. Heads up that Riley’s gonna ask if I can stay the night.”

“Figured. Just a heads up that you can. Topy’ll say yes.”

“ _Topy_?”

“My bad. Mrs. Matthews.”

“Oh. That’s a cute nickname. She’s really cool. Like. A lawyer, business owner, _and_ a mother? And she’s good at _all those things_? Insane.”

“Insane just about does it.” Shawn’s eyes crinkled with a soft smile. “Take a seat. Probably lottsa embarrassing stuff here you can make fun of Cory for if you wanna look around.”

She gingerly pulled a seat out and sat. She looked over the dozens of photos hung around, drawn to one tacked onto the corkboard next to the fridge. A much younger Cory, Topanga, Shawn, and another pretty young woman to his left, all squeezed together with matching smiles and blue graduation gowns. She couldn’t comprehend the idea of her teacher at eighteen, forcibly thrust out into the world the same way Maya and all her classmates were right now. But she also couldn’t comprehend that she was here, in his home, about to spend the fucking _night_ here since his daughter didn’t want Maya to spend the night alone after all that had happened because she cared that much.

Maya cared that much too. She’d told Riley as such but did Riley know that it extended to her too?

She zeroed in on Cory’s face. This moment in time — Cory at eighteen, and, from the grin on his face, with three of his favourite people, at the very end and the very beginning of everything — immortalized in the creased and grainy photograph. 

“Can’t find anything embarrassing at all,” she said.

.

.

.

Ten minutes later, Maya had reluctantly accepted and changed into the clothes Riley offered. A pair of grey sweatpants she had to roll up to her ankles and a soft purple t-shirt, the sleeves she wrapped around her hands. She’d folded the cheerleading uniform and her tights, had them set over her denim coat above Riley’s dresser.

Maya found Riley sitting by her bay window, dressed in her own pyjamas, a loose yellow shirt and green willowy shorts and — oh, Maya didn’t let herself look further down. Riley looked even softer like this, her hair pulled back in a low ponytail, all of tonight’s makeup scrubbed from her face, her pretty eyes even prettier from the moonlight spilling from her window.

“They fit great,” Maya said before Riley could ask. “Your place is great, your folks are great, your room is great, everything here is —”

“Great?” 

“How’d you know I was gonna say that?” 

“I’m a mind reader.”

“Really? What am I thinking now?”

“How weird it is to be here, how weird it is that I asked, how … you kinda regret it now?”

“It’s very fucking weird.” Maya flicked the drawstrings of her sweatpants. “But weird’s good. I like weird. I don’t regret anything — well, no, I regret a lot of things, like, almost all of my choices from tonight, it’d be bad if I didn’t, but I don’t regret this. Unless you —”

“No. I mean, it’s like a life rule for me not to regret anything, but even if I did, I wouldn’t change asking you to spend the night. Wouldn’t be right to know you’d be spending the night alone and not ask.”

Maya could’ve slept over at Lucas’s. She didn’t point this out. “Invited me just ‘cuz it was the right thing to do, then?”

“Not just ‘cuz of that. You know, you should be too drunk to be teasing me. Stop being so functional.”

“Years of practice, darling.”

“Maybe practice not throwing up next?” 

Maya ducked her head, hiding her smile. “I deserve that.”

“Sit with me?”

Maya plopped in the seat next to Riley, hyper-aware of how much space she took up. Lined up behind them were half a dozen throw pillows. Maya wanted to look around, soak in every detail of Riley’s room, gauge how right about it she was — so far, she had been correct that it was huge with pink walls — but she didn’t. It’d be hard to get a good look with the dim lighting emanating from Riley’s lamp. Besides, that’d mean breaking eye contact with Riley. Maya didn’t want that, either. “Gonna find a way to make this all up to you.”

“You really don’t —”

“Shh, don’t interrupt your guest. Don’t know what I’ll do but I’ll figure it out. Don’t have a nice enough place for you to stay in, but I’ve got _quite_ the shoulder you can cry on if you want. Riley. Do you need to cry right now?” Maya shimmied her shoulder in Riley’s direction. “I’m not tall. I’m bad at advice. But I have this shoulder.”

“It’s a nice shoulder. But it’s okay. Really.”

“You sure? Lemme return the favour. I probably won’t remember this! And if I do, I’ll just pretend I don’t, so it’ll be like I forgot anyway.” Maya brushed her knee against Riley’s purposefully, warmed by the spark it shot through her. “I … I’m here, y’know?”

“You are literally here, yes.”

Maya tried not to give Riley the laugh she knew Riley wanted but it didn’t work. “Say you know.”

“I know. But I don’t wanna bother you —”

“Bother me? What the actual hell are you —”

Knock knock.

Riley’s door cracked open. Topanga peeked in. “Hey, girls. We just wanted to bring you some tea and check-in before we doze off. Can we come in?”

Add that to another insanely cool thing about Topanga: she asked before barging into Riley’s room. A foreign concept to Katy.

Riley looked to Maya. “Is that okay?”

Maya had no idea how she once thought Riley was mean. Appreciation squeezing her heart, she managed a nod.

“Come in!”

Topanga opened the door fully. She and Shawn stepped in, each with a mug, the same quilted blanket strewn over their shoulders. It made for a careful walk, but neither seemed to mind. Maya wondered if they stood close together, her in front of him, her back to his chest, because it made for sharing the blanket easier, or if it was just easier because they were already so close. 

“Thanks again,” Maya said with concentrated effort, determined not to slur one bit. “Your home’s super nice and I really ‘preciate it and —” A burp forced its way out. Dear god, she was ruining this.

But Topanga just smiled. Shawn passed Maya a mug. Riley said, “Excuse her,” and managed to make even that sound polite.

Maya went to nudge her but stopped halfway when Topanga gave Riley her mug. 

“Anytime, Maya,” Topanga said. “The door’s always open for Riley’s friends.”

Shawn snorted. “And from how often Riley talks about —”

“You need to stop with that! Quit blabbing about me and spreading lies. I don’t talk about Maya that much,” Riley huffed, but all Maya heard was that Riley talked about her. “You gotta be cool.”

“I’m not already cool?”

“No. You are very lame and I appreciate you for it.” 

“Thank you?” Shawn turned to Topanga with a confused smile. “Oh my god, why am I actually touched by that?”

“Riley is gifted like that,” Topanga said. Maya agreed. “Riley’s preferred topics of discussion aside, know that we’re happy to have you over. If you need anything, just let us know, and we can all talk in the morning —”

“Talk?” Maya interjected.

“Nothing to be scared of. Just a chat. Talk about how the party went, get to know each other a bit.”

“Uh-huh,” Maya said, dubious. Topanga knew subtly but Maya knew it just as well. She didn’t want to think more of what this chat would entail, whether Topanga knew if Maya had drunk tonight or not. Topanga had let her stay. That counted more. “Sounds nice. Look forward to it. Thank you, Mrs. Matthews, really, it’s seriously, like, an honour, and thanks Mr. — Shawn.”

They gave Maya a smile before they took turns hugging Riley goodnight. Maya stared at the floor, her grip on the mug tight until the hugs ended and Shawn and Topanga retreated across Riley’s room.

“Goodnight, girls!” They called out.

“Night,” Maya mumbled as Riley called back, “Goodnight!”

As soon as the door clicked shut, Riley leaned over, set her mug on her nightstand, and turned back to Maya. “I should probably explain.”

“Yeah, what the hell were you talking about with the whole ‘I don’t wanna bother you’ as if listening to you —”

“What? No, not that. I meant about Shawn?”

“Oh. Okay. Sure. But I’m getting back to that later, because —”

“Shh, the host is trying to tell you something.” Riley settled fully back into her spot. She sat cross-legged and something about it — sitting by Riley’s bay-window, their knees touching, each with a cup of tea, Riley wanting to tell Maya something about Shawn, the sliver of moonlight highlighting the urgency in her eyes — all rang as strangely domestic. “You’ve probably noticed that he lives here.”

“Yes.”

Riley started to gesture wildly before she’d even begun speaking. “And when you first met him, like properly met him, he brought my dad food and they were probably annoyingly cute and awkward to be around ‘cuz they kept poking each other and play-arguing, right?”

Maya nodded slowly.

“And like, now, he was close to my —”

“Riles.” Maya pressed her hand over Riley’s forearm and lowered Riley’s hands before she accidentally sprained something. “It’s okay. Just say it.”

“It’s kinda ... unconventional?”

“What. Dude, I’m failing English, I don’t know —”

“It’s not weird. But it’s different.”

“Different’s good. I like different too.”

Riley’s eyes sparkled. Maya had had the urge to draw Riley before but she’d always clamped down on it, refusing to let herself go there, but now, she knew she could no longer resist. Hopefully, Riley wouldn’t mind. A drawing could help make up for all Riley had done for her tonight, right? 

Maya skated her thumb up and down Riley’s wrist. The same thing Katy would do when Maya was younger, to keep her calm and patient enough to endure Katy combing through all the knots in Maya’s hair. 

Katy’s old trick helped. Riley exhaled a long breath and said, “Shawn and my parents — well, Shawn is my parent. He’s my dad. Both he and our history teacher are my dads, and, well, you know my mom, and all three of them are happily together. They’ve all known each other since they were kids, but — well, it’s a whole thing that just comes down to all my parents are married, it’s just that my mom and dad — Cory-dad — are the only ones legally married.”

“So they’re like. All in love?”

“Yes.”

Maya gave it a second’s worth of thought. “That is so fucking cool. You have three parents!?” She tried to keep her voice down but her excitement spilled through. She hadn’t known that was an option! All that love they must have had for each other, for Riley and her brother — how wonderful. It made her unexpectedly happy, even as she considered her sole parent versus Riley’s three. Riley deserved that. She deserved all this love. 

Riley hid her face behind her hands. “You really think it’s cool?”

“Of course! And it makes so much sense. Your dad, Cory-dad, looked very in love with your Shawn-dad. And Topanga-mom looked in love with Shawn-dad. And Shawn-dad looked — okay, you get it, it would’ve been weird, and not in a good way if they weren’t all a couple. Couple. Is that the right word?”

“Mhm.” Riley returned to her loose-limb self, unclenching her shoulders as she grabbed her mug back. “I didn’t think you’d judge it but I was scared to tell you, just ‘cuz if you did judge it, then ... that would completely suck.”

“It’s cool,” Maya reaffirmed. “Seriously. I like your parents a lot. They’re the fucking best.”

Riley chuckled midway through blowing over her tea. 

Maya laughed without knowing why. “What?”

“It’s just. Our first conversation was me thinking you were being rude to my dad and that you hated him.”

“I was rude to your dad.”

“Yeah, no, definitely, but — it’s kinda funny how it worked out. I was trynna stick up for him but now you really like him and the rest of my family too. And tonight, you stuck up for me to Missy.”

Missy’s name tied a knot in Maya’s stomach. “About Missy, I shouldn’t have —”

“I know. You shouldn’t have. I wish you two got along because I mean it when I say she’s my best friend, but ...” Riley faltered, her eyes drifting away from Maya’s into the bottom of her mug. “She’s sharp and scrapes without meaning to. I’m just really sensitive.”

“So? Nothing’s wrong with bein’ soft. I like that about you.”

Riley looked up, quiet shock all over her face. “I like that about me too. Most of the time. But other times, not so much. Just like I’m softer than I wanna be sometimes, Missy’s harder than she wants to be too. I guess what I’m trying to say is that ... I love her. I understand her, but it’s ‘cause of that, I can’t even let myself feel upset, you know? But I see what you were doing. How you were upset for me. And it means a lot.”

Riley’s hand laid in the space between them. Maya took in a deep breath, relished in Riley’s appreciation and how good that felt, and covered Riley’s hand with her own. She waited a beat. Riley didn’t pull away or tense or ask what the hell Maya was doing. Just looked at their nearly-joined hands and sipped her tea.

Maya didn’t speak. She hoped the slow but certain way she threaded their fingers said enough.

.

.

.

A few minutes later, they finished their tea and sent out texts. 

Riley messaged Farkle and Missy. Maya messaged Lucas and Zay, assuring them she was safe and feeling much better at Riley’s place, already anticipating the barrage of questions she set herself up for. She wasn’t sure about Farkle and Missy, but she knew that now, at half-past two am, Lucas and Zay were still at Charlie’s place, probably helping clean up. 

Before she set her phone next to Riley’s to charge overnight, she sent a quick goodnight to Katy. Katy didn’t have to know Maya wasn’t home. When she returned from the diner at eight am in just a few hours, Maya could pretend she’d just gone out earlier in the morning, explaining why Katy wouldn’t have seen her. That made sense. Right? Sure. Probably. Whatever. She’d find out tomorrow.

Maya pressed send and plugged her phone next to Riley’s. “Thanks for letting me charge it.”

“‘Course. Ready to sleep?”

“Mhm.” Maya swallowed as she took in the sight of Riley, already climbed into bed, scooted all the way to the left side. She’d left the other half of her comforter tucked open so Maya wouldn’t have to lift it herself. “You’re so nice. You and Farkle, you’re both so nice.”

“Farkle?”

“Yeah! I thought he’d be like Missy at first but he’s not. He’s like. Sweet. And nice to be around.”

“That’s true.” Riley’s face scrunched up with a yawn. She rolled her head off the pillow, facing Maya, and with her elbow dug into her bed, propped her chin onto her palm. “I like being around him too. I also like being around Lucas. He’s thoughtful. Protective. ‘M glad you two are okay again. You guys talked it all out?”

“Finally did, yeah. But uh ... I dunno what we’re doing? Not that I ever. But I feel like, like I know what I want with him now.”

“Oh?” Riley’s voice squeaked. She did not inherit Topanga’s subtlety.

“Wanna be his friend,” she said with more certainty than she’d ever felt about anything. “Platonic friend. But I needa talk to him. I needa do a lot of things, actually, because I’m a moron.”

“Don’t say that. But you know, what I do when I’m extremely sad or extremely overwhelmed or a lovely and awful mix of both is I just. I write it all out. I make a list of things to do and I do it. Or I write about how I’m feeling, everything I’m stressed and sad about, and eventually, it all connects and it helps me understand me. Susie, my therapist, taught me that. How to make sense of everything and make a plan to conquer it. Try it and get back to me!”

“I will.” Maya meant it.

“But first.” Riley gestured towards the empty side of her bed. “I really don’t mind taking the couch or sleeping in my brother’s —”

“No, don’t. I’m good like this.” Maya crawled into Riley’s bed, pulling the comforter over herself, and laid on her back. Her heart sighed, thanking her for letting herself relax and sleep off tonight and the entire week. Only to hiss at her for prolonging her sleep by turning to Riley and saying, “Nice bed you got here.”

Half of Riley’s smile hid behind her pillow. They lied a few breaths away from each other. No part of them touched but this felt closer than they had ever been before. There was that domestic feeling again, returning with an even brighter glow as Riley said, “Oh. We’re friends.”

“Hm?” Maya’s eyebrows furrowed. “We knew that already. Didn’t we?”

“Yes, yes, of course! But now I’m just realizing. Like there’s that difference between in-school friends and actual friends and we’re actual friends. You’re in my bedroom. You’re spending the night. You’ve met my parents. You like them and you like Farkle. And you like me.”

“Of course I like you.” She savoured the look of Riley’s awe, the coziness of her bed, the softness of her pillow against Maya’s cheek, the fuzziness of sleep tiding her over. “I wouldn’t trust anyone that didn’t.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember earlier in the fic, i mentioned i had three scenes planned and pictured really clearly for this fic when i first started writing it? hello, the second one of those scenes - riley bringing a Not Sober maya back to her place post-halloween party!!
> 
> also hello to the longest chapter of this fic. this fic is officially longer than the original (but fun fact - apparently, riley and maya had already gotten together by chapter 12 of that fic???? how did 14 yr old me to do that so quickly?? this slowburn won't be thaaaaaat slow but i hope y'all like the burn anyway and a longer word-count ✌🏾)
> 
> we're officially in it now, boys!! things are picking up and i'm excited. take care and thank you for reading!! :-)


	14. Chapter 14

Maya knew that sneaking out of the Matthews’s apartment the following morning was at least a little wrong. 

That didn’t stop her from doing it anyway.

She’d slept peacefully in Riley’s bed. Didn’t wake up in the middle of the night once. Didn’t even remember falling asleep. One second she and Riley were almost nose-to-nose, sharing Riley’s soft comforter, whispering to each other and exchanging smiles lit from the moonlight. The next, Maya had a mouthful of Riley’s hair, her arm slung around Riley’s waist, and morning sunlight in her eyes. 

This had to be a dream, right?

No way she was fucking spooning Riley Matthews. 

But then her hangover kicked in and held nothing back with a near-violent throbbing in her forehead and the disgusting acrid taste in her mouth that four minutes of brushing her teeth last night couldn’t remove and confirmed it.

This was real. She’d gone to Charlie’s party last night, vomited all over his bathroom, and was invited back to Riley’s place. She was in her teacher’s home. She was cuddling his _daughter_. 

She had to get out of here.

Disentangling from Riley proved difficult. Not only because Riley’s strength was immeasurable even in her sleep, proven by her hold on Maya’s wrist, but because Maya just ... didn’t entirely want to leave either. 

It was nice. Sort of. In an “I’m still drunk so every weird thought I have is justified, okay” kind of way. Riley’s back curved perfectly into Maya’s chest. Up close, Maya could really savour the green-apple scent of Riley’s shampoo. Riley was like a freaking furnace, warm and welcome. And seriously, Riley was _clinging_ onto Maya’s hand like Maya was worth holding onto. How could Maya want to leave that?

But the idea of breakfast with Riley’s family, seeing Cory on a Saturday morning in _his_ kitchen, having that _talk_ that Topanga had mentioned, and making eye contact with Riley after all that happened last night? 

That was the only thing that got Maya to leave Riley. 

She weaselled out of Riley’s grasp, rolled out of her bed and pulled the comforter back over Riley’s shoulders. In her sleep, Riley’s forehead wrinkled. She flopped onto her back with a whine. It was unfair how even with bedhead, dried drool on her chin, and heavy snoring, Riley was still luminous. Unfair but unsurprising.

She walked around Riley’s bed towards the dresser to retrieve her clothes. She would have to leave not only wearing Riley’s pyjamas and her thick denim coat but carrying Riley’s cheerleading uniform and her ripped pair of tights too. 

A terrible look? Yup. But it couldn’t have been worse than her look last night. Flashes of her snapping at Missy seconds before she ran up to puke, then puking in front of Lucas and Zay, before finally sobbing her heart out on Riley’s shoulder replayed in her mind. 

She shuddered. _That_ was definitely worse.

Riley’s alarm clock read 7:27 AM. There was no way to tell if any of Riley’s parents were awake without checking for herself and risking seeing her history teacher on a Saturday morning and bumping into Topanga who’d wanted to _talk_ with Maya this morning. 

It had to be a dick move to sneak out but the bay-window was _right there_. The apartment was only two floors up. Maya’s migraine didn’t hurt to the point where she couldn’t manage such a brief climb. 

She owed the Matthews’s so much. She had no idea how but she would make up for it. 

As she looked over Riley, she was overwhelmed with appreciation for this loud, dorky, and blindingly bright cheerleader. Riley had treated her with compassion so intense and genuine that had nothing to do with the mist in Maya’s eyes, thank you very much. 

Riley deserved good things. Maya could do that. She could be a good thing for her.

She scrapped the idea of sending Riley a text. She had something better in mind, starting with the notepad and pen from Riley’s desk. 

A few minutes later, underneath Maya’s drawing, she scribbled: 

_sorry for leaving so early. had to get home before mom. thanks for everything. you’re awesome._

Erased. Awesome? Who said _awesome_ anymore?

_you’re amazing._

Nope. Too much.

Bent over Riley’s desk, Maya looked at Riley. Riley had rolled over again in her sleep, face-first into her pillow.

 _you snore very loudly,_ Maya wrote instead. _it was really easy to fall asleep to._

Her inky scribble of a sleeping Riley hadn’t taken long. She couldn’t tell if she liked it or not. It wasn’t terrible but Riley Matthews deserved more than a quick sketch from Hungover Maya who hissed every time the morning sunlight even grazed her face.

_thank you for everything. i’m gonna make it up to u. consider this part 1. text me when u wake up? — Maya_

She left the notepad on the nightstand next to Riley’s phone so Riley would see it when she woke up. 

With her clothes bunched in her arms, her phone tucked in her pocket, and one foot out Riley’s window, Maya hesitated. The Matthews were the type of family who had breakfast together with scrambled eggs, French toast, and English muffins with cups of orange juice lined around the table. Maybe there’d be tea. Some of the pastries from Topanga’s. They would eat together and talk about their plans for the weekend. It would be a nice breakfast.

But Katy would be home soon. It could be nice, too, if Maya made herself stay up just a little longer and wait for Katy. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been awake early enough to greet her mother in the mornings following her night-shifts. It’d been years. Back when Katy was still taller than Maya at the very least. 

That settled it. 

She’d go home.

And then Riley’s snores stopped.

Panic seized Maya and froze her in her spot half in the apartment and half out. She couldn’t tell whether the possibility of Riley waking up right now terrified or excited her more.

One.

Two.

Three.

Just like that, Riley buried her face in her pillow and continued to snore. 

Maya forced herself to look away from Riley, taking the final step outside of the apartment into the world’s biting wind and dim light.

.

.

.

Maya was going to break her keys in two. 

She couldn’t unlock her front door. Her stupid, frozen fingers kept shaking. She’d used the wrong key, dropped her keys, hissed at the cold metallic against her bare skin, done everything _but_ use her keys correctly.

“Fuck you,” she hissed at her keys. She stabbed her keyhole, determined that this would be her last try. When the door swung open, she was pleased that she’d been right.

Except she wasn’t because she hadn’t unlocked the door herself. She hadn’t opened it either.

“I’m assuming that wasn’t meant for me,” Katy said, clad in her a soft purple sweatshirt and grey sweatpants. She’d changed out of her waitress uniform into her pyjamas. That must have meant she’d ended her shift early and had been home long enough to shower and change clothes. Good for Katy. Bad for Maya.

Katy crossed her arms. “Unless you’d meant to tell me to fuck off?”

The smell of freshly-made breakfast wafted from the kitchen to the front door. Scrambled eggs, toast, coffee. Even though Maya was seconds away from dying, knowing her last meal would be homemade breakfast made her smile faintly.

And that only made her mother frown even more.

“I was talking to my keys,” Maya clarified. She clutched the doorframe, willing her headache to please shut up. “I went out on a walk.”

“Nope. You didn’t answer my calls.”

“Didn’t check my phone. My walk was short.”

“I’ve been home for two hours. Haven’t seen you at all.”

“A short-long walk. I went out at five in the morning.”

“In the dark?”

“Yes.”

“In pyjamas you don’t own?”

“How’d you notice that I don’t own — I mean, yes.”

“Carrying an extra pair of clothes? The kind one would wear to oh, I don’t know, a Halloween party?”

Maya blinked. “I don’t like where you’re going with this.” 

Katy’s eyes narrowed as she took her time and silently inspected Maya, no doubt taking in the heavy bags underneath her daughter’s red eyes, her messy hair, chapped lips, dry face. Maya gave up on thinking of a plausible excuse for her state and resigned herself to her fate. 

It’d been a while since she and Katy had a screaming match. They were long overdue. 

With the sour taste in her mouth, the grumbling in her stomach, and the urge to scrub her skin raw, Maya snapped. “Could you say something? _Anything_? I know you’re disappointed so you might as well say it. Get it off your chest.”

“Honey,” Katy sighed, stepping back. “Just come inside.”

“No. Yell at me first.”

“What? No.”

“Worried the neighbours’ll hear?”

“No, I don’t care about that, I’m just not going to —”

“I know you want to.” Maya couldn’t stand the horrible crack in her voice, let alone herself right now, but she needed this. She thought she’d let all her fire out last night but here she was, lit from the inside and either she let it out or she’d burn herself to ashes. “I know you’re mad and upset which, fair! Because I’m pissed at myself too and that’s all I ever do to you anyway, I’m like a — a _parasite_ you can’t get rid of. And I’m sorry about that. Honestly. We can’t change that but you can yell at me instead. So do it.”

What a pretty picture she painted, demanding her mother yell at her while unsuccessfully fighting off her second wave of uncontrollable sobs within the past seven hours, doing so in the hallway of her apartment with a throbbing forehead and wincing at the volume of her voice. 

Literally painting this pathetic scene in her life would be easy: the bright vibrance of everything surrounding her — the ugly orange carpet, the glow of her mother’s skin, Riley’s uniform in Maya’s shaking hands — contrasted with the dark cloud that was Maya. Or maybe that was too on the nose?

Part of her mindlessly mapped the painting out while the other part waited for Katy to lose it. 

Instead, Katy pried the bunched up clothing from Maya’s grip. She tucked it between her arm and side and lifted her other hand to Maya’s cheek. 

For as much as she wanted to, Maya didn’t let herself melt underneath Katy’s gentle touch. 

This was a really weird way to lecture. 

Except no admonishment came. What did was Katy calmly telling Maya, with a softness so fierce that Maya could barely see through the cloud in her vision, “I’m not going to yell because I’m not mad at you. You’re not a parasite. You’re my daughter.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry for that, honey.”

Maya nodded, shuddering at the light press of Katy’s knuckle thumb wiping her tears away, and with that, she let herself melt, let herself cry, let herself just be what she needed to be right now.

“I’m not mad,” Katy repeated. “I’m not disappointed. I’m not upset.” 

“But.” Maya hated how her voice edged on a whine but she couldn’t help herself; for all the things she knew she lacked as a daughter, the one and only thing she could pride herself on was her knowledge of her mom. The wobble in Katy’s chin. The tightness in her smile. And the way her eyes had darkened when she first saw Maya like she’d seen a ghost in her child. Maya knew what that meant. “You’re _hurt_.”

“A little. But looks like I’m not the only one.”

“Oh, these tears? Ignore them. They mean nothing.”

“Right. Like how you clearly haven’t brushed your teeth or showered. And how you were just trynna sneak in before I got home so I wouldn’t notice you didn’t spend the night here? And that you _drank_ even though you’re seventeen?”

“Almost eighteen. I could drink in Europe.”

“Is this —”

“No, this is not Europe. So. No yelling. Now what?”

“Now you’re gonna brush your teeth, shower, change into _your_ clothes _,_ and come into the kitchen where we’ll have breakfast.”

“... Just breakfast?”

“Well, obviously you’ll explain last night. Where you slept. _Whose_ clothes those belong to. And then we’ll figure out the rest.”

Maya stared dubiously even as her heart soared. “Really?”

“Really. Unless there’s something else? Do you wanna talk _now_ or —”

Maya squeezed Katy’s shoulder. As her mouth curved into a small smile, she felt her dried tears against the stretch of her cheeks. “No. That sounds good.”

.

.

.

Fresh out of the shower, dressed comfortably in her favourite sweater, oversized, overworn, and a faded baby blue with a star in the centre, and her oldest pair of sweatpants, Maya approached the kitchen with cautious optimism. 

Katy sat by their dining table, occupying one of the two seats they had. The only thing rarer than having a proper meal with Katy was having a meal with Katy at all. Maya’s stomach hissed at her to take any of what was spread across the table: the coffee, scrambled eggs, toast, and plate of sliced sausage, all fresh, hot, and waiting.

But Maya noticed that Katy’s full plate was untouched. Katy nursed her half-empty mug of coffee without even looking at her breakfast. When she’d noticed Maya’s arrival, she slid an empty plate towards Maya.

“You waited for me,” Maya said slowly as she sat.

“That is meal etiquette, isn’t it?”

“Meal etiquette might also include me helping you make all this.” Maya concentrated on pouring a cup of coffee with her trembling hand. This was no iced coffee from Topanga’s but it came pretty close, some of her bone-deep exhaustion already fading with the first sip she took. “I’ll wash the plates.”

“Such a strange child you are.” It nearly sounded like a compliment. Katy tore a piece of her toast off, dipped it in her coffee, and tossed it in her mouth. “So layered.”

“Thanks. I stay out, drink my liver away, and not tell you where I am _but_ I’ll wash the dishes and I’ll make something for lunch. Or dinner, maybe. I’m knocking out after this and not waking up until at least four.”

“I like that you can joke about this. But I want an explanation. I meant it that I’m not mad but I’m not happy either.” Katy dropped half-finished toast onto her plate. She folded her hands in her lap, staring intently at Maya. Her eyes became glassy. Maya wished she hadn’t noticed. “This can’t be a habit. I can’t — I _won’t_ do this again.”

Maya understood that she deserved this but that didn’t stop her from blanching at Katy’s harsh tone. Her jaw tightened as she fought her instinct for defensiveness. She couldn’t defend what she’d done but she could explain it and that had to count for something. “I get it, mom, but you’re acting like I’m always doing this. This is the first time you’ve caught me like this.” 

Katy pointed her fork at Maya. “Notice how you said this is the first time I’ve caught you. Not that this is the first time you’ve done this.”

Point Katy.

“It’s not like I drink any more than the average teenager or that I’m irresponsible about it, you know, it’s maybe — once a month, and I never drive, and I’m with friends I trust, and — are you telling me you never drank as a teen?”

“I did.”

“Did you ever lie to your parents?”

“Of course.”

“Did you ever do something really stupid that you regretted and wish you could take back?”

“That’s part of life, Maya, but the point is —”

“I know what I did was wrong. I feel guilty. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“Which part? The lying? Drinking irresponsibly? Not cluing me in on _any_ part of your plan? You didn’t even tell me you were going out last night. How am I supposed to be there for you if you don’t want me —”

“I _do_ want you there.” Maya reached across the table and clutched Katy’s wrist. She looped her thumb underneath the beaded bracelet Katy never took off, even in sleep She’d worn it for as long as Maya remembered, something so attached to Katy that Maya had even included it in her portrait of Katy for her Visual Arts class. It forced Katy to pause, take a breath, and listen. “I just … I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m supposed to say and what not. Like. Should I have told you in advance I was gonna get wasted?”

“ _Wasted_?”

“Don’t give me that look. Don’t you want me to be honest!?”

Katy laughed shakily. She propped her elbows up onto the table and took hold of Maya’s hand. “I do. But I don’t approve of underage drinking, young lady.”

“Good? I’d be scared if you did.”

“So where did you go last night? A party?”

“Yes. Which is more good than not because that means I’m, like, socializing with my peers and I have friends.”

“Pft, I know you have friends. That boyfriend and the other boy, both on the football team. Don’t give me that look! I pay attention to your life.”

“I know that,” Maya protested even if it was jarring to have proof that Katy knew things about Maya that Maya didn’t have to tell her. “But he’s not my boyfriend. We’re … good friends.” She’d have to talk to Lucas about that at some point. Would a text suffice? _Hey, we’re on the same page that we’re both so much better as friends, right, and should stick to that and not whatever we were doing before?_

A loud voice, her conscious maybe which could’ve shown up a lot earlier than now, thanks, insisted that no, this kind of conversation shouldn’t take place over a screen. If she cared about Lucas — which she did, so fucking much — then she owed him, and _herself,_ this conversation face-to-face. 

Making the right choice was annoying. Add that to the list of things she needed to sort through, underneath the number one spot carved in big, red, and threatening letters: COLLEGE.

Maya’s head pounded. Even her body couldn’t stand thinking about college for too long. But there were some things she just had to do. Maybe this was growing up at its core. Bucking up, doing the things Current You didn’t want to but Future You was depending on, and not running away from them but running towards them instead. Being afraid. Doing it anyway.

This was way too much introspection for eight in the morning. 

She took a deep breath in. Folded her toast, dipped it in her coffee, and took a bite. She’d take this one step at a time. 

“I know you pay attention,” Maya spoke between bites. “I know you make an effort but I’m not — sometimes, it feels like I’m not worth that effort. It’s just not _fair_ that you’ve had to give up so much and go through all this and your kid, the person that’s supposed to be the hope in your life, can’t even get decent grades and spend time with you and be _nice_ to you and make all of it worth it. I’m supposed to make it worth it.”

Considering Maya’s crying streak, she was proud she didn’t tear up again. 

Katy’s chin trembled but the look in her eyes, the blaze of determination so strong that Maya had only ever seen it in Riley, didn’t waver. She cupped Maya’s face with her cool and calloused fingers. “You’re right that you’re my hope but … god, Maya, you’re enough as is. I don’t need you to be anything more than you are, okay? ‘Cuz where you get it wrong is that this beautiful bright girl in front of me? She makes it worth it. She _is_ worth it.”

Katy looked seconds away from yelling more positive affirmations if Maya dared disagree with her, so she didn’t. She also didn’t because she could tell that Katy wasn’t just saying nice things to make Maya feel better. She’d meant it. She truly saw Maya like that. And god, was it easy to let herself believe at least a little what Katy said, to hope that she could one day believe it fully, on her own, without _needing_ anyone else to tell her it. 

She could get there. She would.

“Okay. Yeah, I’m worth it.” It felt stupid to say, but hearing it felt like something else entirely. Like Maya had been waiting _so_ long to hear it, not just from someone else or Katy, but from herself. It planted a seed of hope that she fervently swore to herself she would tend to and take care of and help bloom. “You’re worth it too. Okay? I’m proud to be your daughter and I’m gonna make you proud. I’m gonna make you _so_ fucking proud.” 

“Oh, baby, I already knew that.” Katy’s smile expanded, her dimples appearing in a rare, all-teeth grin. Maya bathed in the sunshine that was her mother. “Sweetheart. What do you remember most about your dad?”

Maya groaned. “And you killed the mood. Mom, we were getting along. You ruined it.”

Katy rolled her eyes, still with a hint of a smile, and fidgeted with her ponytail. “You’re still on thin ice, Miss Still Hasn’t Told Me Where She Slept Last Night.”

Maya flushed, forcing herself to eat a spoonful of scrambled eggs before she spoke. It had already been a heavy morning and if they were talking about _him,_ she needed more fuel. “I dunno. I guess what I remember most were all your excuses that he didn’t deserve. You remember. ‘He’s a good person who’s just made some mistakes he needs to fix. He’s trying. He still loves us. He’ll come back when he’s okay again.’” 

Maya kept her head down, eyes set on her plate, but couldn’t help stealing a glance at Katy from underneath her eyelashes. Katy bit her bottom lip. The table shook ever so slightly with Katy’s knee bouncing underneath. Maya had the urge to grab Katy’s wrist again and ensure she was still with her, but then Katy gripped the back of Maya’s hand flat against the table. Like she needed to make sure Maya was still with her too.

“Mom,” Maya said softly. “I’d rather not have a ‘he’s still your dad’ talk. That stopped working when I was ten and I just don’t wanna hear more. Please.”

“I promise that’s not what this is. I know I should’ve done this sooner.”

“Done what?”

“I figured, well, you’re seventeen, you’re not even eighteen yet, there’s time, but that was stupid. You’re a teen. I know you go to parties and parties always have alcohol —”

“Mom, I’m not an alcoholic.”

“I know, honey. I know the signs and you’re not there but the point is, you could be. Your dad, he …”

Maya’s blood ran cold. 

Sure, she remembered six-packs in the fridge. Sour-smelling glass cups littered around their apartment. His occasional slur and high-pitched, drawn-out laughter that was always too loud. Arguments. Lots of arguments. The biggest not even towards the end but when Maya was six and almost sipped from his cup because it looked like apple juice and —

“Oh,” Maya said. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice.”

“It makes sense to me. When you’re a kid, it’s just all normal and by the time you get older, it’s not as obvious of a connection to make because why would you, right? When dad’s drinking was just part of dad?”

The image had grown sharper but some pieces were still missing. “Is that what you meant by his mistakes?” 

“That’s some of it, yes.” Katy heaved a long breath. She dragged her chair, walked around the table, and set her seat and herself right next to Maya. They moved towards each other at the same time. Katy wrapped her arm around Maya’s shoulder and Maya burrowed herself in Katy’s side.

“My point isn’t about your dad,” Katy continued, carding her fingers through Maya’s damp hair. “But we can talk about him if you want.”

“No,” Maya gritted out reflexively. “Not yet.”

“That’s fine. But my point is, you need to know this. Not to be ashamed of him or of yourself. He made his mistakes. You’re going to make yours but they don’t have to be his. Maya, they can’t be his. They have to be _your own._ I want you to make your own choices. That’s all this. I, and the law, thanks, don’t want you drinking while you’re still underage but once you’re twenty-one, it’s up to you.”

She thought about her dad. There must have been enough light in him that even after all this time, Katy still defended him and saw him as just someone who made mistakes. Maya didn’t know if she saw it like that. He made his mistakes but he made his choices too. She couldn’t just forget that he chose to — that he wanted to — leave them.

She knew this. But she couldn’t help the twinge of empathy that gripped her heart. It felt like both a betrayal towards her father, that she felt bad for him but couldn’t do anything about it, and it felt like a betrayal to herself that she was feeling guilty at all for things she hadn’t done, for a man whose only job was to stay.

She didn’t say anything out loud, didn’t tell Katy, didn’t even consciously understand this moment for what it was. In less than a breath of a second, she just made a choice. She just thought about how there was an active way to be better, to do better both by her mom and herself and their history. 

Besides. Beer tasted like piss, anyway. She wouldn’t miss out on much. 

“Good to know.” Maya winded her arms around Katy’s neck, pressing her face into Katy’s shoulder. Katy rubbed her back. For a few moments, the world was just them. A daughter and mother curved into each other, their pieces fitting perfectly. Maya couldn’t remember the last time she let them hold each other like this or when she’d felt completely safe, everything okay because her mom had her and she had her mom. She knew it wasn’t the first time. She decided this wouldn’t be the last.

“Mom?”

“Yes?”

“Is he okay now?”

The thing about their unspoken but mutual agreement not to discuss Kermit was that it became easy to forget that just because he’d left didn’t mean he was _gone_. Maya knew abstractly that Katy had spoken to Kermit over the phone sparsely through the years. That there was a thin thread of communication, the possibility of getting in touch but Maya didn’t know the extent of that. She didn’t know if he sent money. What he was up to. If he asked about her. She didn’t want to know, either.

“Yes,” Katy said decisively. “He’s been sober for a few years now.”

Seventeen-year-old Maya spent approximately one second trying to feign indifference before eight-year-old Maya broke through, her relief so overwhelming it couldn’t be contained. She could hate him for what he did to them but be glad about what he did for himself. It was weird, messy, and a contradiction too big for her to try and understand so she didn’t and just let herself have this fleeting moment’s worth of relief. 

“If you ever wanna see him, I can —”

“No.” Maya didn’t know if her answer would ever change, but she was okay with either option. “But he’s better now. That’s … that’s good.”

“Mhm.” Katy kissed Maya’s hairline, some of her lipstick from her shift leaving an imprint. Maya didn’t mind. She didn’t mind at all. “We’re good too.”

“Yeah. We are. A-plus” Maya eyed their still mostly untouched breakfast, their unfinished and lukewarm mugs of coffee. “We’re gonna have to microwave this aren’t we?”

“Yup. But that’s okay.”

“You made it all?”

“Half were fresh from the diner. The coffee and toast are all mine. It’s all healthy, I _mean_ it, wouldn’t give it to you if not. I know you’re giving me a look.”

“There’s no look. Best breakfast I’ve had in ages. Honest.”

Katy’s shoulders sagged and she went back to rubbing Maya’s back, slow and steadying circles. “Damn straight.”

“I’ll tell you all about last night but there’s one more thing I wanna talk about?”

“Sure. What is it?”

As soon as the idea struck her, Maya bolted upright, suddenly re-energized. 

Was she getting excited about schoolwork and doing shit for _college_ now? Wow. She really was growing up. Gross.

“One sec, okay?” Maya didn’t wait for Katy’s response, jumping to her feet and proceeding to race into her room. She retrieved her backpack from where it was stuffed in her closet and pulled out her thick art folder. Even though nothing was organized and half of the sheets in here were notes from English, she quickly found what she was looking for. 

She balanced the fine line between excitement and nervousness. This could go wrong. Katy might not see it as enough, might think it meant and changed nothing, or worse, she wouldn’t like it all. 

Maya refused to consider it. All she needed was Katy to just like it. Maya would make the rest work. And that woman back in the kitchen, who didn’t go back to bed after her night-shift and spread out breakfast and waited to eat with Maya and thought Maya was worth it all, wouldn’t reject this part of Maya. She would love it.

“I’M GOING TO COLLEGE, GODDAMMIT!” 

Maya raced back to the kitchen, repeatedly yelling this as she spiralled into breathlessness. Katy looked rightfully confused but endeared, turning around in her seat with a forkful of scrambled eggs in her mouth.

Katy pumped her fist up. “Yes, you are! Love your enthusiasm! Whatcha got there?”

Maya’s grip on the sheet in her hands loosened. “The reason I’m going to college. The reason I _want_ to. The reason for a lot of me, actually.” She flipped her artwork around, the side of her first graded portrait of the semester facing outwards. Two Katys, eye-to-eye. 

“This was my first assignment for art class. I got an A-plus.”

Maya watched Katy’s face transform beginning with a split second of disbelief. Then awe. Amazement. Adoration. 

“Oh, Maya,” Katy whispered, revered. “It’s me. It’s beautiful. Sweetheart, _you’re_ …”

“Yeah, I am,” Maya said smugly. Her heart swelled as she passed the portrait to Katy, allowing her a closer look. “I know, art isn’t a safe bet, but it’s part of me. It’s like a limb. _This_ is what I’m meant to do. And really, nothing’s ever a safe bet, and there are programs where I can pursue art and other things, so it’ll be what I love with a practical side, like an art business program that _so_ many schools have, and — ”

“Okay.”

Maya didn’t trust her ears. “What?”

Katy was still looking at the portrait, tracing the eyelashes that took Maya a ridiculous amount of time to perfect. “We’ll need to talk more and make a plan but I know you’re serious about this. That’s all that matters. Finish your breakfast. Finally tell me where the hell you slept last night. _Then_ we can talk about college. We’ve got a lot to figure out but we’ll get it done.”

“I want a job. And retake the SATS. And —”

Katy shoved a fork into Maya’s hand. “Eat first. Talk later. Cannot believe I’m saying this but stop thinking ahead and getting all responsible and just have a nice meal with your mother, okay?”

“Happy to oblige.” Maya grinned, eyeing the careful way Katy held the portrait close to her chest like it was something precious. She sat across from Katy and filled her plate. 

Katy shook her head, a fond twinkle in her eyes. “Need any aspirin? How’s your hangover?”

Maya bit her smile. “Barely even notice it.”

.

.

.

Getting her shit together and meaning it this time went like this.

That Monday, she came to school prepared. First things first, she booked an appointment with her guidance counsellor. She and Katy agreed that Maya needed to talk to her counsellor on her own. Together, they’d made a list of questions to ask about colleges, some she would direct to Middleton in class, the rest to her counsellor. Maya would ask about retaking her SATS and for whatever other help the school could provide. 

Next, she went to history twenty minutes early. Riley had cheerleading practice this morning so she spent her walk from the guidance office to the classroom psyching herself up to approach Cory by herself.

The moment she knocked on the opened door, Cory looked up from his stack of essays. He greeted her with his easy, familiar smile that loosened some of her nerves. “So, does Casa Matthews get five stars?”

“Five stars and chocolate.” She walked towards him and set the box of chocolates she’d bought at the drugstore yesterday on his desk. “Didn’t know what else to give. Giving you flowers would be weird. I mean, I could’ve given them to Riley, but that’s also. Really weird. There aren’t any nuts in case you or your wife or your — your _Shawn_ are allergic. And Riley mentioned once that your son always eats the milk-chocolate pieces? So this one’s got some milk-chocolate. But Riley sounded annoyed when she said that, so make sure Riley gets some of those pieces too.”

Cory’s smile widened as he traced his finger along the note she’d taped to the front. A handwritten thanks. That was Katy’s idea. The doodle of their kitchen and a quick Topanga, Shawn, and Riley was Maya’s. 

“Maya, you didn’t have to —”

“I know. I wanted to. Sorry for leaving early, I just had to get home. I know it’s probably weird for you to have one of your students stay over.”

“Not any weirder than living with one of my students,” Cory said, earning Maya’s nervous chuckle. “But is everything okay? Anything you wanna talk about?”

“I’m okay,” Maya said and felt a thrill at how much she meant it. “It was a weird night but it, uh, meant a lot that Riley and your family took me in. So I’m good. Honest.”

Cory must have believed her because he looked relieved. “That’s great.”

“You have a really nice place. All homely. Which makes sense since it’s a home and I’m gonna stop talking about that now and tell you I have a guidance appointment at 9:25.” She pulled the purple slip from her back pocket and waved it at him. “Might take long. Will I miss much?”

“I’m sure Riley and Zay can fill you in. But I’ll post the PowerPoint tonight and whatever important topics you missed, you’ll have it in there. You _will_ miss my commentary, though. Lotta great laughs you’ll be missing out on.”

“What a tragedy,” she said dryly but internally lamented over how much that would actually suck. Cory could be funny sometimes, and not just accidentally, his jokes occasionally landing — don’t tell him that, though — and the class discussion was always equally thought-provoking and amusing. She didn’t know how much she’d understand and retain if not for those parts of the class that made history her favourite alongside art. Again, don’t tell Cory that. 

Wait. What? No. She _should_ tell him that. 

Maya cleared her throat. “Hey, Matthews? I just wanted to say —”

“So you think one amazing drawing makes up for _leaving_ without waking me up?”

Maya clenched her jaw, irritated at the interruption. For about a millisecond until that familiar voice clicked and she turned around as Riley added, “Because it absolutely will but I’m going to pretend to be a little upset with you anyway.”

“You liked the drawing?”

“As much as you like _leaving_ in the _morning_ without saying anything!”

“I left a note! Does that mean you liked the drawing or not?”

“Obviously I liked it!” Riley sighed, the crease between her eyebrows disappearing. She finally moved away from the doorframe and marched in front of Maya. 

“You texted that you didn’t mind that I left.” Maya hoped her half-smile came out wry and not nervous. She nudged Riley’s side and earned a bashful smile that sent butterflies loose inside her. 

Riley nudged her back. Despite the material of her jacket against the material of Maya’s plaid shirt, Riley sparked a flare of warmth against Maya’s skin all the same. “I’m a liar. I also feel like I couldn’t convey the depth of my anger through text.”

Maya swallowed. “You’re angry at me?”

Riley ducked her head. She fiddled with the last button of her letterman. “No. Not even a little. I wanted to. You know, I’m _very_ good at being angry, but with you, I —” The softness all over her face dissolved as she flicked her gaze to Cory. “Dad. Can you like? Leave? Just five minutes!”

“Darlin’, you’re in _my_ classroom.”

“Have you made photocopies for today’s handout yet?”

“Of course I … haven’t.” Cory’s eyes narrowed. “How’d you know that?”

“You’re a predictable mess. Love you!”

Cory stood from his chair, straightening his cheetah-print tie with a chuckle. “Love you too. I’ll be back soon. Don’t set fire to the curtains or something.”

“There go my morning plans,” Maya said.

Riley’s laughter filled the classroom, making up for today’s dark and cloudy sky with how much light spilled from the sound. “We’ll postpone all plans of arson. Promise.”

Cory looked between them, a knowing glint in his eyes. “Alright, Aspiring Arsonists. Be back soon. Help yourself to the chocolate which thanks again, Maya. We really were happy to have you and you’re always welcome back.” He saluted them and left the room.

Riley’s jaw dropped. She tossed her backpack without looking. It miraculously landed by the feet of Riley’s desk. 

Before Maya could proclaim her amazement and ask if all cheerleaders had perfect aim powers along with their strength or if it, like magic, was just a Riley thing, Riley clutched the box of chocolates. “Nevermind. Not mad. You got milk chocolate! And you drew me. Maya Hart, you’ve made all my wishes come true.”

Maya sat on Riley’s desk and directed her stupidly wide smile at her legs as they swung back and forth. “So you wouldn’t object to another drawing?”

“Are you insane, why would I say no to — did you draw me again!?” The pure excitement in Riley’s grin and how she dropped the chocolate box to take hold of both of Maya’s knees like they were the only thing keeping her upright made Maya sure she could draw Riley a million times and never get sick of it. “Is that what you meant by the drawing being part one?”

“Maybe. I don’t know, I thought maybe if I drew you a little something different, surprise you every week or something, that could make up for Friday night, which again —”

“Don’t you dare say thank you.”

“Are you kidding me? I drove you home _once_ and you and everyone you knew wouldn’t let me forget it. You did so much more than that for me. I’m saying thank you whether you like it or not. So. Thank you.”

Riley had three pieces of chocolate stuffed into her mouth. She started to smile but clamped one hand over her mouth, laughing again. “Wait. Gimme a sec ta chew.”

Maya would’ve called Riley gross for speaking while eating but honestly? She didn’t feel disgusted at all. Just ridiculously endeared. “Sure thing.” 

A few seconds later, Riley hopped onto her desk and sat next to Maya. Shoe to shoe, knee to knee, even hip to hip, and still not as close as they were Saturday morning. Maya didn’t know why she made the comparison. It was instinct to latch onto a warm body in your sleep. She’d done it accidentally with Lucas plenty of times, Zay too in the number of times they’d all stayed over at Lucas’s place. 

But Riley was different. It seemed that Riley was always, completely, wonderfully different.

“Guidance appointment?”

Maya hadn’t noticed she’d been unfolding and folding her slip. “Yeah. I took your advice, actually. Made a list of shit I need to do to get _my_ shit together. After I left your place Saturday morning —”

“Snuck out, you mean?” Riley tried to raise an eyebrow but ended up waggling both. She then tried to wink. The repeated twitch of her eye made Maya laugh hard enough she almost fell off the desk.

“After I politely snuck out,” Maya corrected between wheezes. Riley looked briefly annoyed but the longer Maya struggled to stop laughing, the more amused Riley looked. “I had this, uh, big talk with my mom. Worked some things out, I guess, and I don’t know if that means we fixed _everything_ and we’re gonna have family dinners and outings and hugs or whatever, but I mean, it feels better now.” 

Riley nodded. She slid her pinky over Maya’s, a quiet encouragement.

Maya cleared her throat. She stared at their nearly joined hands before decisively hooking their pinkies together. “But yeah. That felt good and like one thing off that list, and so we talked about college too and agreed I should talk to my counsellor. The plan is to retake my SATS next month, which, now that I’m really thinking about it, is terrifying.”

“You’ve got this. You can always retake it again if you have to, but you’ve got the _best_ team to help your already brilliant brain do brilliantly.”

“I have — what?” 

Riley continued as if she wasn’t responsible for the deep flush across Maya’s neck. “Farkle and Zay are math geniuses,” she said, counting with her fingers. “Plus, Farkle’s in your English class so he can already be of great help there if you need him for that. You don’t, though, because I’m an English god.”

“And modest, too,” Maya teased, mostly to compensate for the intense gratitude swelling inside her. “Riles, you really don’t —”

“I finished last year’s English with a ninety-nine. I’m considering double-majoring, and English is a strong contender for one of those programs, but that’s beside the point. As if I didn’t already totally convince you to not second guess yourself and go for it —” Riley leaned forward, peeking out the door, and then surreptitiously glanced around their empty classroom. “Don’t tell _anyone_ I said this, okay? But Lucas told me he’s thinking of retaking his SATS too. He’s just not sure. Thinks it’s embarrassing. He wasn’t really proud of his first score and he thinks he’ll just get the same result anyway. But if he knows _you’re_ gonna retake them too, he’ll feel better about it.”

Maya’s confusion must have been all over her face because Riley added, “I don’t think he’s told anyone else. Not even Zay or Farkle. He didn’t _mean_ to tell me. We’d just bumped into each other after our after school practices last week. Not sure where Zay was but Missy left our practice halfway through for a dentist appointment. Dad had a really long staff meeting so I thought I’d have to wait another hour for him but I saw Lucas by the gym and he offered me a ride. He’s a very safe driver.”

“Yeah, he is,” Maya murmured, fuzzy at the idea of Lucas dropping Riley off and how unbearably pleasant that must have been. In a car ride no longer than twenty minutes, Riley got Lucas feeling open and comfortable enough to tell Riley something he hadn’t told anyone else. It made sense. Maya had come to learn that was just who Riley was and she understood Lucas, how nothing was too embarrassing or scary to admit in front of Riley’s soft brown eyes. 

“So it’s perfect! If you retake them next month, so will Lucas, and we’ll have a big study group and I can make a schedule. It’ll be a lot between our practices and our games and your hunt for a — oh my god. Am I a genius or what?”

“You’re a genius,” Maya said automatically. “We already knew that. But geniuses share their conclusions so what big great idea just popped into your head?”

“You want a job, right? Boom. You have one. Work at my mom’s bakery!”

Maya sputtered out a shocked laugh. She waited for Riley’s punchline to land but it never came. Maya slid off of Riley’s desk only to stand right in front of Riley, bracing her arms on either side of Riley’s knees. “I’m not about to run your cool as fuck mom out of business. I appreciate the offer but I have no experience, I don’t know how to bake, and please think back to our first ever interaction and tell me how well you think I’ll do in customer service.”

“That was two months ago,” Riley said dismissively. “You’re friendlier now. Softer.”

“Am not!”

“Are too! Listen. My mom likes you. She likes hiring students and giving them a safe first job and — close your mouth, _don’t you dare interrupt me_ —”

Maya reluctantly closed her mouth.

“— One of our employees is leaving in a week. We have a spot available anyway and since training is a week, by the time she’s gone, you’ll be ready to go. Don’t you want to save my poor mother the hassle of interviews? Going through resumes? Having to tell someone they don’t have the job? All when we can just give you the job and save everyone all that pain and heartache?”

“Riles …” Maya tried to look away from Riley’s eyes. She really did, fully-aware that Riley could convince an angel to commit a felony with those fucking puppy-dog eyes. But with all the other challenges Maya had decided to overcome these days, this wasn’t a challenge she was strong enough to let alone _want_ to fight. 

“It means so much to me,” Maya said, tapping her thumb over Riley’s wrist. “But I don’t wanna make you regret it in the end and disappoint your mom and have her mad at _you_ because you’re so nice and I’m —”

“Ahem. Hey guys?”

Maya leaned past Riley to find the voice that interrupted her. It startled her badly enough to realize that a single other person had entered the classroom without her noticing. It startled her even worse to realize nearly all of their class was already here and, again, she hadn’t noticed. What the fuck.

“Wasn’t trying to eavesdrop,” Jason continued, pushing his glasses up his nose. Maya was still too disoriented from her terrible observational skills and honestly by the thought that Jason had to be the only person who could look cute — not attractive-cute, but I Want To Pinch Your Cheeks cute — in highlighter-yellow framed glasses, that she didn’t care he’d caught their conversation. 

“You guys are just both very loud!” Jason said it like a compliment. 

Judging from her friendly smile, Riley must have accepted it as one too. “Thank you!”

“Sorry for the noise,” Maya said.

“No, that’s not what I was trying to say. I just … wanted to give you unsolicited advice, I guess? Go for it! Go through the application process! Go through the interview and everything since it sounds like you’re scared you’re only getting the job because of Riley. That way you’ll feel like you’ve earned it because you will. If things go wrong, you can’t feel guilty because hey, you applied and got a job you were qualified for. Riley would’ve just been the person who told you to apply. So not her fault, no guilt from you, and if it doesn’t work out, at least you tried!”

Jason said this all very quickly and ended his advice with two thumbs-up. 

“Jason,” Riley said. “You’re a wonderful human. Do you know that?”

“Do you know that _you’re_ also wonderful?”

“I do! But thank you!”

Maya internally agreed with them both. “Jason, you’re right. That was unsolicited advice.”

Sure, Maya was at the beginning of a redemption arc here. (Or was it the middle, since her first big revelation was in September? Or more accurately twenty percent through since she had eight months left until graduation? Fuck if she knew. This was why she was failing English.

Okay, but she had to be at _least_ halfway done, right?)

Anyway, she was trying to be better. Genuinely. But she couldn’t deny herself the opportunity of scaring Jason like that for a quick second. She wasn’t completely terrible though, quickly clarifying, “But your unsolicited advice was also right. Sorry for scaring you. You’re good, dude! Thanks.”

Jason laughed, pretending to wipe a bead of sweat from his forehead. 

“Jason is wise,” Riley said. “And I’m not just saying that because he agrees with me. Thank you, friend!”

Maya glanced at the classroom’s clock. Five minutes until the last bell rang and class started. Cory still wasn’t here yet, all of their classmates were. They had enough time.

Without a second of hesitation, Maya looped her fingers around Riley’s wrist. She tipped her head towards the door. “Let’s talk in the hallway for a minute?”

.

.

.

“Really? You’d be okay with it?”

“No special treatment. If there’s a typo on my resume or I don’t make enough eye contact in the interview, I want your mom to hold it against me. I’m gonna earn this, okay? Gonna make you sticking your neck out for me worth it.”

“It’s already worth it,” Riley said like it was nothing when it meant everything instead.

They were at the other end of the floor, far from their classroom but quiet and empty enough where Maya didn’t think too hard about standing this close and talking this loudly with Riley. This was by the lesser-used set of doors leading into the second floor from the first. The only students that came this way were freshmen because some of their lockers were here or hormonal couples who wanted to make out in between classes by the staircase. 

_Anyway._

It had been a weird few days. Lots of tears. Lots of big weird feelings. Lots of revelations. But mostly, and what mattered most, was that all of it made her want to cling tighter to what she was grateful to have — her mother, her friends, her art — and gave her enough hope to try for more. Enough hope to work for it. Enough hope to believe, and possibly one day just know, with complete certainty and objective truth, that she was worth it.

“Bring your resume to the bakery on Friday,” Riley said. “And you can talk to my mom. How’s that sound?”

“Sounds like you’re fucking amazing.” Maya pulled Riley into a bone-crushing hug. Its suddenness nearly knocked Riley over, bumped her into the locker directly behind her. Maya drew her arms back with a wince. “Sorry, sorry, sorry —”

But Riley just tackled her into a fiercer hug. She ended up lifting Maya off the floor and knocking her into the opposite wall. “There! We’re equal.”

“Reminds me.” Maya kept her arms around Riley’s neck, legs wrapped around her waist, her chin hooked over Riley’s shoulder. This was definitely closer than their Saturday morning accidental spooning. But Riley didn’t let go. Maybe she liked quietly showing off her cheerleader strength. Maya was more than happy to let her. “I washed your old uniform and PJs. Got ’em in my locker. Wanna get ‘em at the beginning of lunch? I can pick you up from your Chemistry class and we can go to my locker together.” She also had another drawing waiting for Riley. A quick sketch done with two pens, one black, one red, of her in her cheerleading uniform. But that was a surprise.

“Sounds great! Is it also okay if I, um, well, you have lunch in the art room, right, you _eat_ there —”

“I do.” Maya pulled back to meet Riley’s eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!”

“You can’t lie to someone whose face is less than three inches away from yours.” That sentence meant absolutely nothing. But Maya said it with enough conviction that Riley caved.

“I’m in a _little_ fight with Missy. It’s not what you think it is!”

“It’s not because of me?”

“Not exactly? Look, it’s fine, everything’s fine, you don’t have to —”

“Are you okay?” Maya pried herself out of Riley’s arms and returned her feet to the floor. 

“I’m fine.” 

Maya reached out, slow enough that Riley had enough time to step away from her upcoming touch if she wanted to. When Riley didn’t move, Maya cradled Riley’s jaw with one hand as the other rested on Riley’s shoulder. “Liar.”

Riley’s breathing hitched. “Can’t prove it.”

“Fine. You sit with me in the art room during lunch under one condition. Let me buy you a coffee or something after school — doesn’t have to be from your mom’s place, anywhere you want — and you tell me all about how fine you aren’t.”

“If I don’t want to talk about Missy, I don’t _have to_.” 

Undeterred, Maya nodded and swept her thumb across Riley’s cheek. “Fair. Then you vent about anything you want. Long as you’re bitching and getting something off your chest. Deal?”

Riley’s sniff might have been inaudible had their corner of the hallway not been empty. She leaned forward, closed the small gap between them, and pressed her forehead to Maya’s. “That sounds so nice, Maya, but if you don’t want —”

“Stop that. I want.”

The doors burst open, accompanied by footsteps and laughter Maya would recognize anywhere. 

Maya and Riley broke apart but not by much. They stood side-by-side, hands brushing. Close. But not as close as Maya had become used to.

Zay’s entire body was flushed. As usual, he held his sports duffel in one arm, his notebooks and textbooks stacked on top. He and Charlie walked shoulder-to-shoulder towards Maya and Riley.

“Morning practice?” Maya asked.

Zay nodded. “What about you two?”

“Heart-to-heart in the hallway,” Riley said. “The freshman babies are always super early to class so this hallway’s always free.”

“Smart,” Charlie said. “Man, we better sprint to class or we’re all gonna be —”

The final bell rang. Immediately, a voice followed over the intercom: “Please stand for the playing of the national anthem.”

Maya squared her shoulders, scowling at the thought of spending the entirety of the morning announcements in the hallway, not allowed to speak or move — the school’s crafty punishment for students who weren’t late enough to warrant a slip but were late enough to not make it to their class before the final bell. She’d done this a million times, each time more annoying than the last.

“You jinxed us,” Maya whisper-shouted to Charlie, mostly joking. 

Zay knocked his duffel against Charlie’s arm. “I’m already late and always talking in Mr. Matthews’s class. He’s gonna love me even more now.”

“He already loves you,” Riley said earnestly. “He loves all of us. We’re his favourites.”

Maya fought a smile. “ _You’re_ his number one favourite.”

“We’re not supposed to speak while the anthem is playing!” Riley spoke, notably while the anthem was playing. “But I’m still right. Don’t worry, Zay.”

“I’ll take the blame if needed,” Charlie added. “Say I had a major fall on the stairs and you, ever the hero, tended to my injuries.”

“Ooh, Riles and me will back that story up,” Maya said. “You don’t mind lying to your dad, do you?”

“You’re all ridiculous,” Riley said. “Of course I don’t mind.”

Zay adjusted his grasp on his duffel, looking between them with a half-smile. Maya expected him to call them idiots but he just laughed with his entire body and they joined him and burst into laughter. 

A teacher down the hall, standing past his classroom’s door, tried shushing them as the national anthem continued. They ignored him. It was already a miracle that halfway through the semester, on a Monday morning, early enough that the announcements hadn’t even started, that a group of seniors was capable of laughter at all. 

Besides. Maya had already spent so much goddamn time crying this week. If she had a reason to laugh with some friends, she would take it. 

.

.

.

Maya’s plan went like this.

By the end of the month, she’d have earned a job at Topanga’s and worked hard to keep it. She’d have studied as much as humanly possible for the SATS scheduled for the first weekend in December with the help of Riley, Zay, and Farkle. (Maybe Isadora. She’d ask her in art class and return the favour with … drawings? She’d figure that out.) She and Lucas would study together and crush the exam. She’d be a better student, a better daughter, a better friend. The people in her life deserved the best so she would be the best.

It was going to be really fucking difficult. 

But what did she have to lose?

She was determined to see it through. And so she did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm currently but also always crying with pride for maya hart
> 
> listen. there was a lot more that was supposed to happen but i ran wild with that katy and maya scene and couldn't bring myself to cut any of it. but hey! cheers for some mother-daughter healing and holding and communication!
> 
> we're gearing for the tiniest of time-jumps. took us 110k+ to get to december but we're *there* and i promise we're only moving and progressing faster now. thank you so much for your patience!! it will be rewarded soon!! i'm EXCITED and NOT READY but also VERY READY for next chapter and i think y'all will be too! 
> 
> hope y'all are doing well. thank you for your lovely kind words and for reading!! stay safe.


	15. Chapter 15

“Uh. I can carry that for you if you want.” 

“No. I’m a _big_ girl.” 

Maya didn’t want to invalidate the patron in front of her. But said patron also couldn’t be older than six. Maya wouldn’t just be an idiot but a terrible person if she let the kid carry her small-sized hot chocolate back to her table. 

Her Topanga’s apron crumpled over her knees as she bent to meet her customer at eye-level. 

The girl’s tiny hand froze an inch above her mug’s handle.

“Trust me. I know you’re a big girl. That’s obvious.” Maya nodded earnestly. With genuine admiration, she gestured to the girl’s pigtails, her bright yellow scarf that, despite being wrapped around her neck three times, still ended by her waist, and her gigantic red boots. “And I’m not saying I don’t think you could get your hot cocoa back to your table without spilling it.”

“That _is_ what you’re saying!”

“Nuh-uh!”

“Yuh- _huh_!”

“Nuh —” Maya forced a deep breath in. It was okay to be tired. Not okay to argue with a kid with the great point of ‘nuh-uh’. “I think you can do it. But you don’t have to. I just want to help.”

“I don’t need help.”

“Everyone needs help.”

“I can do it.”

“I know you can. But you don’t have to. And I’d really like to help you. Please? Wouldn’t your mom do it for you?”

The girl’s eyes narrowed. “Are _you_ my mom?”

Maya couldn’t help her dry laugh. Her eyelids were heavy, continuously drooping as she worked the second half of her five-hour shift. She’d had two cups of coffee an hour ago to fight her incessant yawning. (It only made her yawning worse.) And while her Friday had consisted of a History test, an English presentation, _and_ using her lunch alongside their class-time to work with Isadora to finish their respective sculptures due by the end of the day, she still had another two hours of her shift left. It was too much. It was also pure stressful bliss. 

And no better example of such a contradiction existed than in the delight Maya found in this girl’s stubbornness.

“I’m not your mom, but I think we both knew that. How about we carry it together? I’ll give you an extra marshmallow.”

Her eyes widened. “Really!?”

Maya grinned. After how certain she was that she’d bombed all of her evaluations today, this was the victory she needed. 

So together, she and —

“What’s your name?”

“Mama says I shouldn’t tell strangers that.”

“Smart. She’s right.”

“But ‘cuz I know your name is MAYA —” The girl pointed to Maya’s name-tag, pinned below her shoulder. “And you’re a kid, I’ll tell you my name. I’m Suki!”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Suki,” Maya said sincerely. This awkward, half-crouching position forced upon her from holding the mug with Suki was deeply uncomfortable but Suki’s table remained a few steps away. She could do this. “Quick question, how old do you think I am?”

“I dunno. Ten!?”

It was a miracle they made it to Suki’s table without Maya breaking into laughter and spilling everything over both of them.

Not testing her luck, Maya waited until they reached Suki’s table to ask, “You really think I’m ten?”

Suki plopped into her seat. Her boots didn’t reach the floor. “Maybe nine?”

 _I wish,_ Maya almost said. Except that seemed weird to say a six-year-old. Sure, growing up sucked. But kids should get to feel excited about their futures. As stressful, anticlimactic, and painful as they may be. 

“I’m seventeen. Almost eighteen,” Maya explained with an easy smile. Her feet begged her to sit in the empty seat in front of Suki but she resisted the urge. “Still a kid but not for much longer. Lemme get you that extra marshmallow, okay?” 

On her way back from her trip to the front counter, she savoured the girl’s high-pitched “Ah!” and several claps at the sight of _two_ extra marshmallows pinched between Maya’s tongs. 

“An extra extra. Because you’re just that cool. Happy Friday, Suki.”

“Happy Friday, Maya! Thank you!”

Behind her, a woman sighed. “Did she insist she bring it to the table?”

“Yup.” Maya dropped the two marshmallows into Suki’s mug. She stepped back and faced the mom with a smile. “But we brought it together and didn’t spill a single drop. She’s great.”

“Thank you for watching her,” the mom said breathlessly. She shot Maya a grateful smile and patted her shoulder in quick succession before she returned to her daughter. Her entire face lit up even as she admonished, “Don’t drink so quickly!”

“You know that’s just gonna make me drink more quicker!”

Maya chuckled. She allowed herself a moment to bask in it, that she’d helped a customer, that she’d done something good, that she hadn’t fucked up colossally in her three weeks working at Topanga’s. Even with her hectic workload and SAT prep, she was making it work. Somehow, she was doing it. She would make everyone, herself included, proud. 

The moment passed. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. Tightened her ponytail. Redid her apron’s knot. And marched back to the front counter.

Just then, the door into the small kitchen cracked open. Her coworker, Connor, poked his head through. “Got any orders?”

“Nope.”

“Tight.”

“Everything good with you? For a sec, I thought I heard Andy yelling at you.”

“You did.” Connor rolled his eyes. 

From the back of the kitchen, Andy yelled, “He shouldn’t use semicolons if he doesn’t know how to!” Andy was Maya’s other coworker and Connor’s best friend. Since it was a relatively quiet night and Maya was mostly a functional barista by now, she didn’t mind that they worked on a paper due this weekend in between customers. 

At first, they intimidated her. Two third-year, college dude-bros with a foot and a half of height over her? Terrifying. No thank you. But she soon learned they were just dorks who made their cookies with extra chocolate chips, always commented on Maya’s doodles on cups with kind variations of ‘holy fuck, that’s cool’, and loved making fun of each other. Case in point: 

“Stop harassing me in front of Maya,” Connor half-heartedly hissed.

“In your defence, I don’t think anyone knows how to use semicolons,” Maya said. “Hey, how do you balance your college workload with —”

Ding.

Connor smiled, a touch sympathetic. “You’ve got a customer.”

“Thank you, Connor, I hadn’t noticed.” 

“I can take it for you.”

“I got this. Go back to your paper.”

“Thanks, Maya!” Connor and Andy said, in sync even with the walls that separated Andy from them.

Maya gave him a salute. She took in a deep breath, plastered on the fakest smile possible, and spun around to greet the customer. “Welcome to Topanga’s, dear, what — hey! What fuck are you doing here!?”

“Is this how you greet all of your customers?”

“Only my SAT tutor and football explaining … person.” The sight of Farkle standing on the other side of the cash register reenergized her faster and better than her earlier cups of coffee. It made her smile smaller but more genuine. “Who should also _be_ at tonight’s football game.”

Farkle shrugged. “Chemistry club ran a little late. The game had already started when we were finished and then I figured eh, it wouldn’t be as fun since you weren’t there. I texted everyone else. They’ll understand. So I went home, ate, cleaned up a bit, and thought it’d be nice if I, uh, came here.”

“It is.”

“Hm?”

“Nice. That you came here.”

“Oh! Good.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.” He ducked his head. He pretended to look over the glass case of pastries.

She wanted to let him. Really. She should just ask what he wanted to order. But Farkle turned red so easily like he had dozens of times in the library this past month. Whenever Lucas would look up from his practice sheet, wordlessly dust lint off Farkle’s shoulder, then return to his work. Or when Farkle read the feedback Riley left after she proofread his essays. Or last Monday, when he and Zay received their grade from some group-project in Biology and ran into each other so hard they both fell over thus causing the librarian to ask if they required first aid. 

Granted, the red in his face from that last incident might have literally been the blood rushing to his face. But still. 

Maya wanted to see if she could make him blush. So she tapped the glass case where his eyes were glued to the crepes and said, “I’m a little hurt it can get awkward between us this fast but you and Zay can crack up over science jokes none of us get. And you and Lucas can’t go five seconds without laughing at something none of us understand.”

“Lucas just has that kind of laugh! I can’t help but laugh when he does!”

“Are you making fun of his laugh? That’s not nice.”

“You make fun of him being from Texas more often than you _breathe_.”

“Thank you. I try.”

“I mean.” Her mission was accomplished: Farkle’s neck flushed pink. “I guess it’s different with you two.”

“Dude. I’m running on four hours of sleep and three cups of coffee. You’re gonna have to spell this out for me.”

“Well, you know. Since you’re dating.”

Mission backfired: now Maya turned red. “We’re not.”

“What? Oh, I’m sorry. How are you doing after the break-up?”

“Okay, this sounds weird, but we were never really a thing, to begin with? It’s weird. Hard to explain. But that weird thing is over now. We’re friends. Fully friends now. No kissing, no — no _anything else_ either. Don’t worry.”

Farkle froze. Maya should’ve just asked him if he wanted a goddamn crepe instead of making this conversation even more awkward. 

After several strangled noises, he finally stammered out, “Why would I worry?”

“I don’t know,” Maya replied, equally perplexed. “But you seem pretty worried now.”

“I’m not —” Farkle looked over Maya’s shoulder. The wrinkle in his forehead smoothed over in favour of his soft smile. “Hi, Mrs. Matthews-Lawrence.”

Maya looked to her right and found Topanga next to her. Even while working on a massive case and when the cafe was empty, she still popped in from her apartment every half-hour and checked in on each employee. Granted, that could also be an excuse to nab a snack like the cupcake in her hand but successful cafe owners could eat as many of their tasty products as they wanted. “Hey, Farkle. Good to see you. It’s been a minute.”

Farkle’s smile twitched. “It’s good to see you too. I’ve just been a bit busier with school. Spending a lot of afternoons in the library but I’m sure you know that since I’m there with Riley too. Operation MLSATs.”

Yes, MLSATs was just SATs with Maya and Lucas’s initials in front of it. Yes, Riley came up with it. Yes, Maya and Lucas unironically loved it.

Topanga’s eyes widened in recognition. “Ah, yes! Maya, you and Lucas are taking the SATs next week, right?”

Maya’s stomach flipped at the reminder. “Next Saturday. I’m good to work that evening’s shift, though. Honestly, don’t —”

“Nonsense. Take the day off after your big test. Celebrate with Lucas and all your friends.”

It was impossible not to give in under Topanga’s blindingly white smile and the hand she rested on Maya’s shoulder. “Okay. Yeah. I’ll take the day off. Thank you. But I’ll make up for it Sunday.”

“Nonsense. You shouldn’t have to work on Riley’s birthday.”

“Riley’s birth —” Maya’s ponytail bounced as she snapped her gaze back to Farkle. “Riley’s birthday is in a _week_ and I didn’t know?”

Farkle blinked. “You … you didn’t know, yes. Is that what you’re asking?”

“How did I not know!”

“I don’t know! You’re worried.” Gears were always turning in Farkle’s mind but she could especially see them now. 

She had no idea what he was thinking. There was nothing _to_ think but she still flushed under his thoughtful eyes. “Her birthday’s in …” Yes, Maya had to use her fingers to count the days. Please don’t judge. “Nine days? My god, I can’t believe she’s still sixteen.”

“Me neither,” Topanga said wistfully. “But don’t go worrying yourself too much. Riley is the person who says she doesn’t need a gift and means it. But she’ll also like anything you could give her.”

“It’s true,” Farkle added. “One time, I gave her a framed photo of me, her, and Missy from kindergarten and she cried.”

Maya figured Riley would love any gift. But what she deserved was a completely different question. Between classes, their last week of SAT prep, and her shifts at Topanga’s, Maya didn’t have enough time to think about what to get Riley, let alone get her anything meaningful. But she wanted to so she would make it work.

“So what’re you getting her this year then?” Maya asked Farkle.

“You can’t _steal_ my idea.”

“I’m not gonna steal — why would I give Riley something her boyfriend would give her?”

“It’s not like my gift is boyfriend specific. We’re best friends first and foremost.”

Beaming, Topanga side-stepped past Maya towards the display of pastries. “Twelve years and counting.” 

Farkle returned Topanga’s smile. “So I know her well. And I know she’ll like anything you give her because you’re the one giving it.”

Topanga hummed in agreement. She retrieved two cake pops and thrust one into Farkle’s hands. With her kind eyes trained on Maya’s, she gave the second to her. “Don’t think too hard about it, hon.”

“Thanks,” Maya said, quieter than she’d meant to. She wasn’t sure if they heard her. The cafe wasn’t quiet but the overhead radio’s volume was low, the only other noises the snaps of Suki’s mother taking photos of them both with their donuts, and Andy and Connor’s rapid click-clacks of their fingers over their keyboards.

Still, Maya couldn’t bring herself to repeat it. But just because she couldn’t voice her appreciation didn’t mean there wasn’t another way to show it. 

“I am making you both hot cocoa.” Maya raised her finger before either could object. “Ask Suki. She will confirm that my hot cocoa goes hard.” She marched off into the kitchen with her head held high and a skip to her step. As the door closed behind her, Farkle asked, “Who’s Suki?” 

.

.

.

“I hate this.”

“Will you hate this book or not acing English more?”

Maya gritted her teeth. “When we joked about you being a soft tutor, it didn’t mean you needed to toughen up.”

“ _That_ sounded tough?”

She broke her resolve to keep her eyes glued to the page. She lowered her book and raised a single eyebrow at Farkle who, at the other end of the cafe’s orange couch, looked weirdly pleased. “So tough that it suddenly made this book interesting.”

Now Farkle looked pained. He snapped his biology textbook shut and discarded it in the gap between them on the couch. If complaining about required-readings for their English class would have gotten him to finally quit doing homework, Maya would have done this earlier. 

Okay, she _had_ done it earlier but she would’ve been more annoying about it. 

“Maya,” Farkle sighed. “The Handmaid’s Tale is a classic.”

“Classics are boring. For example —”

“Don’t say it.”

“A Brave New World is _the_ most boring thing I’ve ever read.”

“You didn’t even finish it! You read seven chapters and Sparknoted the rest.”

“And I still passed the unit.”

His mouth pressed into a thin line. 

“Shut up!”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Even if I got a C on that final essay, I still got a B on the test which is pretty fucking good.” She slid the blue post-it she’d been using as a bookmark into her tattered, barely held-together copy of The Handmaid’s Tale. Not that there was much of a point. She was still on the fourth chapter and had only managed three pages in the past ten minutes. She deposited the novel into her backpack and sat back. “I’ll do better on this next essay, I swear.”

“You’re doing better already,” Farkle insisted. “But y’know, you do have to read the book too.”

As she tore her apron off, her shift having officially finished twenty minutes ago, she snorted out a laugh. “I love the balance between praise and your nice way of telling me to stop complaining and keep reading.”

He strung his finger over the several colourful tabs sticking out of his copy of 1984 _._ “I didn’t say stop complaining. Read and complain. I know I am. My book is interesting but god, this protagonist is vile. He’s so gross.”

“Sounds awful. Is it boring?”

“Your book is not boring! Trust me, you just have to keep reading. It’s a classic for a reason. And no, you can’t watch the show instead. What would Riley say?”

Coming from the guy who was here instead of at the game she was cheerleading at. But that would be a touch too cruel even if Maya was joking. Mostly. Yes, she appreciated that he’d come here, kept her lovely company, and studied a little alongside her in comfortable silence with a shared plate of leftover cookies, but —

It was weird, right? 

But who was she to judge? Riley and Farkle had a good love. Kind and honest and real. Even Maya, who’d never had a front-row seat to a functional and healthy relationship, could tell. Whatever was going on between them, it was probably nothing. 

So she filed all the weird thoughts of RileyFarkle away, took the last cookie, tore it in half, and shoved the larger half into Farkle’s hands. “I’m gonna give it ‘till page hundred and if The Handmaiden’s Tale is still boring then you can’t be all judgy when I watch the show. Deal?”

He gave her a tired smile as he pulled the sleeves of his sweater over his hands. “Maya, it’s The _Handmaid’s_ Tale. But deal.”

She scoffed as she shoved her cookie into her mouth. “That’s what I said. Hey, Farkle?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

He didn’t ask what for. He just stared at his book and asked, “We’re friends, right?”

Maybe it took Maya a little longer than everyone else to see the appeal of Farkle Minkus. But she had still gotten there and thank god she did. She bumped his knee with hers and affectionately told him, “Shut up. Obviously, we’re friends. You’re a good tutor, yeah, but I wouldn’t hang out with a tutor like this. Or split a cookie with them. So eat your damn half.”

“Thanks, Maya,” he said, smiling into his first bite. She knew he wasn’t talking about the cookie.

.

.

.

“Something’s wrong.”

“Maya, it’s not another typo. The questions are worded that way to trip you up on purpose. Remember what I said?”

“Your convoluted metaphor about _tying your laces_ so you don’t trip and fall? I remember.” Maya lifted her water bottle from the centre of their library table. She barely suppressed a groan when she found it was empty. 

“It was _not_ convoluted, don’t even —” Riley looked up from her laptop. The indignant look on her face fell away at Maya’s helpless giggle. “You think you’re so funny. You think making fun of my metaphors is hilarious. You think —”

“I think something’s wrong with you.” Maya winced. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Riley shut her laptop, leaned back into her seat, and dragged her hands her face. “You still wouldn’t be wrong.” She smiled like it was a joke. Maya didn’t find it funny.

It was five in the afternoon, the Thursday before the SATs. Today’s study session only consisted of Riley and Maya. Football practice stole Lucas and Zay. Chemistry Club took Isadora and Farkle. Maya both missed them with a fierceness she didn’t expect but she’d still looked forward to just an afternoon with Riley. 

By all accounts, the library at their community centre, a blessed ten-minute walk from their school, should have sucked. Bumping into at least half a dozen other people in your grade was inevitable. The fluorescent lighting was overwhelmingly bright and hard on your eyes. The noises of young children in the tiny play section could be heard from any spot in the library. 

And of course, coming here after spending seven days at school only to spend _more_ time on schoolwork was objectively terrible.

All of this was true. But Abigail Adams Community Centre — somehow with no affiliation to their high school — carried this inexplicable coziness she couldn’t explain. There was just something about being surrounded by people in the neighbourhood. About the walk here from their school, wind in their faces, knocking shoulders, voices overlapping as they shared insignificant details about their day. Sharing a table, their books and pens and pencils scattered over it, their feet brushing underneath the table, their shitty McDonald’s iced coffee bought from the other side of the centre perched dangerously at the edge of their table. 

It was nice. 

Even nicer with Riley.

Or it would be if Riley was okay.

Maya pried one of Riley’s hands away from her face. She twined their fingers and squeezed. “Don’t say shit like that. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Riley rested her forehead on their table. “There’s something wrong with everyone.”

“Really? What’s wrong with me?”

“Don’t do that.”

“I’m serious.”

“Fine. What’s wrong with you is that you’re not finishing your practice essay right now.”

Maya should probably take the hint, accept that Riley was now officially annoyed with her. But Riley was still holding her hand. So she laid her head next to Riley’s and continued pestering. “Fair. The only thing wrong with you is that you’re clearly upset and you’re ignoring it and that’s not okay.” 

“Are you aware you have a huge exam in two days?”

“Are you aware you turn seventeen in three days?”

That got Riley to roll her head over and face Maya. From this close, Maya could count every one of Riley’s eyelashes. She should probably scoot back and give Riley some space. She didn’t.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Riley mumbled, an adorably confused wrinkle between her eyebrows. She sounded sleepy. From the heavy bags underneath her eyes, she probably was.

“Did you sleep well last night?”

“Again, what does that have to —”

“Did you?”

“I’m in my senior year. I’m co-captain of the cheerleading squad. I’m taking calculus and chemistry. I’m applying for colleges. _When_ am I supposed to sleep?” Riley snapped. Maya could tell Riley’s irritation was just reflecting back to Maya and not actually meant for her.

And sure enough, seconds later, Riley’s shoulders dropped with an exhale. She sat up, corrected her posture, and slid Maya’s hand between both of hers. “I’m sorry, you did nothing wrong, I just — I hate this time of year.”

“Because of school?”

“I mean. Yeah? But also.” Riley pointed their joined hands to the pitch-black sky outside the window-covered wall. “This should be illegal. It’s dark, it’s cold, and —” She plastered on a smile that wasn’t as bright as the ones she usually gave Maya. “And I’ll be fine. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Liar,” Maya said without hesitation. “You’re such a lying liar. You know you can talk about Missy to me if you want, right?”

Riley’s smile faded. She ducked her head and stared at her feet, her hands turning limp in Maya’s. “There’s nothing to say about Missy.”

“Okay. But if there is. I’m here.” Maya took in a deep breath. With the hand not in Riley’s, she gently tipped Riley’s chin up. “Okay?” 

Riley nodded. 

“Is that yeah, we can talk, or yeah, we can talk one day, just not today, or an admission that I’m completely right and you’re totally not fine?”

Riley’s eyes narrowed but the corners of her mouth twitched. She knocked her knee against Maya’s before she dragged her chair closer to the table. “You could sound less gleeful about my mood.”

“So that’s an admission, right? And hey, I’m not gleeful. I want you to be happy.”

There was something about the stunned way Riley stared at Maya that spun Maya’s heart. She didn’t know why. Why she felt like this or why Riley looked so dazed. Maya had only said the truth.

“You _deserve_ to be happy,” Maya insisted. But that only made her own heart spin faster. She cleared her throat and slid her practice essay towards Riley. “I’m, uh, finished the essay. We can end early today.”

. “Oh, you’re done! Wonderful! Yeah, I’ll take a look at it right now. My dad’s meeting ends at six so I’ll be here for another hour anyway but you can leave as soon as I’m done reading. Unless you want a ride and don’t mind waiting?”

“‘Course I don’t mind waiting.” Maya couldn’t ever stand to watch any one of her SAT tutors, Riley especially, read her work. She folded her arms above the table, careful to keep Riley’s hand in hers, and rested her head on her forearms. “Maybe. Maybe you can let me buy you those dumb apple pies from McDonald’s.”

“They’re not dumb. They taste excellent and they’re very affordable!”

“So you’ll let me buy you a few?”

“No! No pity food. Keep your hard-earned money for yourself.”

“I’ll spend my money how I want, thanks, and if I want to buy you gross food, I will.” A beat. “If you’ll let me.”

Riley traced her thumb across Maya’s knuckle. With her face hidden from Riley, Maya didn’t bother tamping down her grin. Feeling extra confident, Maya added, “It’ll be thanks for the ride and for all the help you’ve given me with the SATs and … everything.”

“Only if you’ll agree to eat one with me too.”

“Deal.”

.

.

.

.

Apparently, the key to getting Riley Matthews to open up lied in three apple pies and a shared strawberry smoothie.

“If you’re really sure …” Riley wiped her mouth with a napkin and mumbled the rest of her sentence. “Then yeah, it’d be really nice to talk about some stuff with you?”

Maya straightened in her side of the booth. They sat near the community centre’s entrance into the McDonalds. An old couple split a large fry and read the newspaper together in the booth ahead of them. Behind them, a trio of ninth-grade girls quizzed each other on French conjugation. Somehow this just made sharing a booth with Riley all the more … 

Maya couldn’t think of any other word to describe it but intimate.

“Of course I don’t mind,” Maya said. “You’re safe here. You know that, right?”

Riley smiled around the first bite of her last apple pie. She kicked Maya underneath the table and shrieked out a laugh when Maya returned the favour. “Of course I know that. And of course, you’re completely right that Missy’s part of it. It’s just — we’ve fought before, obviously, but never for this long. And it only hit me a few days ago why. It’s because after the two, maybe three days of silence I’m always the one to break the silence and reach out. She’ll apologize then, sure, but she’s never done it _first_. So it’s like, if I just never talk to her again, she’ll never talk to me? And I know it seems petty, but she’s the one in the wrong! What she said to Lucas, and what she said about you —” 

Riley didn’t seem to notice her slip-up. She continued ranting, tearing up her used napkin, glaring at the ceiling. Maya had no idea what Missy had said about her. But she didn’t care, refusing to interrupt now that Riley was finally releasing some steam. 

“— How she won’t give me _any_ advice about Farkle —”

Nevermind. Maya had to interrupt here. “What’s wrong with Farkle?”

Riley dragged her hands through her hair with a huff. “Nothing’s wrong with him. I’ve just been … questioning things.”

Maya didn’t know what to say so she didn’t say anything. She just reached across the table, threaded her fingers with Riley’s. 

“It’s just,” Riley continued. “I don’t know. We’ve been spending less and less time with each other, and I know we’re both just really busy, but it feels like we’re not even texting and calling at all, and of course, I miss him. He’s my best friend. But that’s the thought that enters my head first, you know? I miss him like a best friend. Not like my boyfriend. And I feel evil for thinking that. And even though my brain knows that doesn’t really mean anything, my heart doesn’t think that’s true. And Missy has refused to tell me what it means! What do _you_ think?”

Maya braced herself for what she was about to say. It went against everything she believed in but hey, Riley asked. “Can’t believe I’m about to say this but I see Missy’s point.”

Riley's face fell. Maya would’ve been struck with guilt if it weren’t for the fact that Riley hadn’t let go of her hand. That meant something. That meant everything. 

So Maya squeezed her hands and explained, “Isn’t Missy, like, tight with Farkle, too? So she’d probably have no objective way to talk to you without feeling guilty as hell. It just sounds like she wants you to sort through your feelings first and decide for yourself. Like _she_ isn’t sure what it means either so who is she to tell you what to do? What did she say?”

“That only I could know what that meant and decide what I feel.”

“So am I right?” 

“Fuck.” Maya was already bewildered by Riley swearing, even more, when Riley said, “Yeah, you are.”

“... Sorry?”

Maya’s confusion dragged a reluctant, almost shy smile from Riley. It smoothed out the lines of her exhaustion, returned some of the colour back to her face. She looked more like herself now. Her usual soft intensity without the stress, exhaustion, and anxiety that seemed to have been weighing her down all week. A flicker of pride sparked in Maya. Knowing she was capable of helping Riley in any way made her determined to do it again.

“I just want things to make sense again.” Riley said it like she did everything, with fierce determination, her head held high, her eyes meeting Maya’s despite their wet gleam. Maya felt another burst of pride. This time, it was for Riley. 

“And for them to make sense _faster_ ,” Riley said. “I know patience is key or whatever, and I still haven’t even turned seventeen yet so of course I have more figuring out to do, but I’m tired of that. Feels like I’m constantly having to learn who I am and about this new, weird world around me which is hard enough, but by the time I actually figure it out, everything’s changed and I have to do it all over again. But that’s been okay. Because some things are forever, you know? Like Saturday brunches with my family because we all sleep in after the long week we’ve had and it’s only right to start your weekend with homemade pancakes. Thursday breakfasts with Farkle at my mom’s bakery before he drives us to school and I walk him to class. Skating every Friday after school with Missy as soon as the snow falls and final assignments kick in. You know?”

Maya thought about the odd Saturday morning where she and Katy would eat cereal to early reruns of SVU. 

About impromptu after-school trips to Topanga’s with Lucas and Zay that looked different now that they were all so busy, them with football, her with work, and the addition of Riley and Farkle, but not different enough that it had stopped.

And she thought about how this wasn’t the first time an after-school SAT study session found Riley and Maya in their own booth, apple pies between them, their used napkins and wrappers stuffed in their paper bag.

“Yeah,” Maya said softly, nodding. “I know.”

“Those are forever things. Or they used to be. But if they used to be, that means they were never really forever then, right? Because I can’t remember the last time my family made waffles together. Maybe October? Shawn’s been taking more trips out of town to write more pieces, and Mom’s in the thick of a _busy_ case spanning months now, and Auggie’s apparently waking up at eight am now because he’s suddenly responsible even though he’s twelve, and Dad — okay, Dad’s still there, but it’s not the same, and I’m the only one sleeping until noon now. 

“And I love my family, and I’m happy they’re all well, and I’m so fucking proud. And I hate that I’m so selfish about it, but, it’s like, god, our lives are already changing now with graduation and college. Couldn’t all of _this_ family change happen later? And if I’m not evil enough for thinking that, I can’t remember the last time Farkle and I did our little pre-school breakfasts, and I don’t know why he forgot, but I don’t know when I forgot either. And obviously, I haven’t skated with Missy. God, I’m so _mad_ at her but mostly because I miss her so much. I miss our table in the caf, and I miss spending an hour in the gym after practice, just the two of us, messing around and making up stupid cheers and doing cartwheels until we went red in the face, and — you know what’s even more stupid?”

Maya swallowed past the lump in her throat. She stood out of her side of the booth. Sat next to Riley. Tentatively rested one hand on her back, brought the other to dab at Riley’s tears. “What?”

Riley shifted back and leaned her head against Maya’s shoulder. Her hair tickled Maya’s cheek. Everything about it — the strange ease of Riley’s touch that Maya now understood was her just being used to it, how perfectly Riley fit in Maya’s arm, Riley’s tears painting Maya’s hair — absurdly made Maya want to cry too. 

“Missy’s birthday is in April, right, and mine is in a few days,” Riley murmured. “And every year since the one we got lockers, so like since seventh grade, we decorate for each other’s birthday. Except we do it together. The birthday girl cuts the tape and paper but she doesn’t get to see it until it’s done. Usually, we put pictures up too. This year is the biggest. It’s our last one. We were supposed to go to school early this Monday and decorate mine, even though my birthday’s Sunday. It’s not like I need my locker to be decorated. I don’t care about that. I just want to _do_ the decorating with her. God, I know nothing lasts forever but it should.”

Maya swept Riley’s hair away from her face before she leaned her cheek against the top of Riley’s head. For a moment, they just sat together, hand-in-hand, heads close, hearts even closer. 

Behind them, the tallest freshman girl bemoaned that she would fail tomorrow’s test. But before she could finish her sentence, one friend threw an eraser at her while the other insisted she would ‘pass the shit out of the test’. Ahead of them, the elderly woman scribbled something on her newspaper that made her husband laugh so hard he snorted.

Maya watched Riley watch the people around them with quiet awe. She could see how it tethered Riley back to the world. Riley’s breathing slowed and her tears stopped — _that_ was what tethered Maya back.

“You’re the least selfish person I know,” Maya said. “You’re not selfish for missing things and missing your family and missing Missy. It doesn’t make you a bad person. It just makes you a person. I’m sorry nothing’s making sense right now. It’s a very stupid symptom of being a person. But you’re a good person. One of the best I know. And you’re gonna get through this. I don’t know how long it’ll take or what the world will look like when you do, but I know you. There’s not a doubt in my mind that you’ll make everything make sense again. You deserve to be happy all the time, and it’s bullshit that you can’t be, but you’ll get there again. I promise. But until you get there, maybe I can help take your mind off of it? I know it’ll be different since it’s not with Missy, so it’s okay if you don’t wanna, but what do you say we go skating? Tomorrow?”

Riley disentangled from Maya so quickly Maya worried she’d fucked up. 

Except Riley just pulled back far enough, allowing Maya to see her face lit with pleasant shock. “Really!? You know how to skate?”

Maya laughed breathlessly, giddy with relief. “Well, no, but Lucas and Zay do. And Farkle could come if that’s not weird for you.”

“Of course not!” God, Maya had so many questions about Riley and Farkle but now was not the time. 

“Can Smackle come too? I know she hasn’t really hung out with the boys since we all study separately and they don’t eat with us at lunch, but still. It would be even more fun with her there, don’t you think?”

Through their month of sitting together in the art room, Riley made a lot of attempts to talk to Isadora. Isadora usually took some time to warm up to people. The only reason she’d warmed to Maya was because Maya needed time to warm to people too so it worked out much easier than expected. But Riley kept trying. No one was immune to Riley’s charm — Maya knew better than anyone — and though their bond was still tentative and new, Isadora had grown comfortable around Riley. Fond even.

And Maya knew that Riley liked Isadora. Riley liked everyone. But something about how much Riley wanted Isadora there made Maya like Riley more than she already did. Huh. She hadn’t known that was possible.

“Of course,” Maya exhaled. “So does skating sound okay?”

“Yes, ohmygod, yes! And you’ll be following my advice of not studying too much before your big test day. This’ll totally calm you and Lucas before you retake the SATs.”

“Yeah, sure. But _you_ want to do it, right?”

Riley’s eyes shone. “Yes, so much, yes!” And then she threw her arms around Maya, reeling her in for a bear-hug that had their knees knocking underneath their booth. Maya pressed her smile into Riley’s shoulder, holding her back with the same ferocity. She had been gifted with a lot of Riley’s hugs these past few months. But she would never get used to how damn warm they made her feel.

.

.

.

Unfortunately, Isadora had to watch her sister after school so she couldn’t make it. (“I sincerely appreciate the offer,” Isadora had said. She hadn’t said it monotonously, a crack of emotion in her voice, which was how Maya knew that watching Silver wasn’t a lie. Next time, Maya resolved, she would make sure Isadora could make it.)

Because Farkle had a Physics lab that extended past school hours and Riley’s calculus teacher gave her students an extra half an hour to finish their test, Maya, Lucas, and Zay walked towards the community centre after school. Just the three of them. 

Kind of like old times.

Lucas was the first to acknowledge it. “Feels kinda weird, doesn’t it?”

The sidewalk was empty save for them as they walked, squeezed together, trekking through the snow. Despite the grey skies and the breeze that passed, it was a welcomely warm December afternoon. 

From between Lucas and Maya, Zay hummed. “A little. When was the last time it was just us?”

“Don’t know.” Maya stepped over a particularly large chunk of snow. “But this is nice. Things are different in a good way, but still different. You know?”

“Definitely,” Lucas said. “I think the last time we hung out was the car ride to Charlie’s party? But the last _proper_ time was maybe Topanga’s when we told you I was on the team. And now we’ve got the last of our games coming up, and you and I have the SATs tomorrow, and we’re not dating anymore —”

“WHAT?” Zay stopped abruptly. His mouth dropped as he spread his hands out, an open ‘what the fuck’ look on his face. “WHEN!?”

Maya and Lucas exchanged a look. They shrugged in tandem.

“Early October?” Maya said. She looked to Lucas for his approval. “Maybe the college fair, I guess?”

“College fair sounds good,” Lucas said. Maya nodded, glad they were on the same page. 

Lucas tugged the sleeve of Zay’s jacket so he would continue walking. “Dude, why are you so confused?”

Zay didn’t budge. “Because you two _broke_ up! I know you guys had a weird, like, not relationship relationship, but I thought you would _tell me_ when you ended it. Am I just that unobservant? Are Riley and Farkle broken up too?”

“Absolutely not,” Lucas said as Maya shrugged. He stopped in his tracks and gawked at her. “What the hell does _that_ mean?”

“Don’t you know?” She asked, startled. “They’re fine! Probably! I mean, they will be. They’ll work it out. I’m sorry, Lucas.”

This was meant to be comforting. It was not meant to make Zay even more confused and have him blurt out, “Lucas, do you like _Riley_!? I thought Maya —”

The community centre was five minutes away. Certainly, a conversation as ridiculous as theirs would be better suited indoors and after they’d bought everyone’s tickets to skate. But just like Lucas and Zay, Maya couldn’t bring herself to move. “What? You — what? You think I like Riley? I’m not — I mean, I’m _probably_ not — but I don’t — you thought I had a crush on her while I was still dating Lucas!?”

Zay tightened his scarf around his neck with a frustrated huff. “It seemed confusing to me too! But I didn’t know how to bring it up! So you and Lucas both like Riley?”

“No!” Maya and Lucas cried out.

“Just Maya,” Lucas added.

Maya spun around on her heel to direct her affronted glare from Zay to Lucas. “ _No_! I don’t like Riley.”

Lucas and Zay shared a look.

“So you love,” Zay started.

“No!” Maya rubbed her temples and stomped her boot in the snow. “I’m sorry, I just — can we please talk about Lucas’s crush on Farkle then?”

“I say we do both,” Zay said. “And also discuss how neither of you likes telling me anything, apparently. First the break-up, now this?”

Lucas hooked an arm around Zay’s shoulder and pulled Zay’s hoodie tighter over his head. “I’m sorry. It’s not like we don’t trust you, it just didn’t seem like anything worth saying. With everyone on your plate, I didn’t wanna stress you out _more_ with you worrying if this would change everything. Which it didn’t! So yay!”

Zay gave a begrudging smile. “Yay indeed.”

“No more secrets,” Maya promised. She slid her arm around Zay’s other shoulder. “You’re our best friend. You know that, right?”

“‘Course he does.” Lucas elbowed Zay, prompting Zay to unwind his scarf and whack him with it. Lucas nearly tripped backwards into the sidewalk. Zay’s hand steadying his shoulder kept him upright. “Even if he thought I had a crush on Riley. She’s the best, obviously, but _I’m_ not the one completely gone for her.”

Maya rolled her eyes and tapped her left boot against his. She tried to ignore her heartbeat picked up. It didn’t work. “I don’t like Riley like that.”

“It’s okay, Maya,” Zay said softly. “We don’t have to talk about it. But we can if you want. It’s cool with us.”

“Totally.” Lucas kicked at the pavement and crushed a clump of snow. “If it helps, you’re not the only one with the same ... issue.”

Maya’s eyebrows furrowed. “You _do_ like Riley?”

“What? No! Farkle! I’m talking about Farkle!”

“Holy shit,” Zay said. “I knew it.”

“A minute ago, you asked Lucas if he liked Riley,” Maya pointed out. She removed her hands from her pockets to link one arm with Lucas in what she hoped was a comforting gesture.

From the half-smile he sent their joined arms, it seemed to work.

“Okay, yes, because I was confused. But I totally saw it.” Zay followed Maya’s lead, and soon, all of their arms were linked, the three forming a triangle. They could’ve made it to the community centre by now. Another minute spent longer standing in the same snow-covered spot on the street and her socks would become wet. A snowflake landed on Maya’s nose. It was supposed to snow at five but it looked like it was starting early. 

But Maya didn’t care. Anywhere with her two best friends was exactly where she wanted to be.

“So we both like two unavailable and wonderful people,” Lucas said. He brushed the snowflake away from Maya’s thumb with the pad of his thumb. She wrinkled her nose and glowed despite how utterly confused she was. “At least we have good taste. Weirdly similar taste too.”

Maya made a noise of protest. She wanted to insist he’d be okay because he would be, they all would be, goddammit, but also kindly tell him he was wrong about her nonexistent feelings for Riley. 

But the noise of footsteps and heavy breathing caught her attention.

Maya turned to look. The moment she met Riley’s eyes was the moment Riley launched at her and knocked her to the ground.

“Ohmygod, I’m so sorry, I saw you guys and got excited. I didn’t mean to trip you! I thought I was pushing you out of the way!” 

It took Maya a second to register that she had fallen on the sidewalk. That Riley was on top of her, her mitten-covered hand framing Maya’s jaw, bright and beautiful concern all over her face. “Honey, are you okay?”

To which Maya responded, “How was your math test?”

Riley buried her laugh in Maya’s hair. “I finished early. I’m sorry. I didn’t think I’d knock you over when I ran into you.”

Zay and Lucas crouched on either side of Maya. 

“What did you think would happen, sugar?” Zay asked, amused, tucking Maya’s hair away from the wet asphalt and into her hoodie.

Riley winced. “I didn’t think that far ahead. I was hoping I’d tackle you and Lucas into a hug too.”

“Aw.” Lucas flicked snow away from Maya’s jacket. “Nice gesture. But I’m glad you didn’t and I mean that in the nicest way.”

“Like I’m strong enough to bring the two of you down,” Riley said with a snort.

“You absolutely are,” Maya said. “Help me up, Riles?”

“Of course!” Riley took both of Maya’s hands and effortlessly pulled her up to her feet. “Sorry again.”

“Don’t be. I think it’s sweet.” Maya dusted the rest of the snow away from her jacket and spun around, proving she was just fine. She offered Riley her hand. “C’mon. Let’s go. The rink is waiting for us.” 

Maya caught Lucas and Zay sharing another look again. An entire conversation carried in the way they nudged each other and the smile in their eyes as they walked ahead of Riley and Maya. She should’ve felt her usual fond twinge of annoyance. She should’ve had the urge to throw snow at them. She should’ve at least rolled her eyes at them for being so wrong about her and Riley.

But then Riley took her hand. Everything fell quiet.

Oh.

The earth didn’t shift. The world didn’t suddenly become brighter. The ground beneath her feet, the air in her lungs, her soul in her body didn’t move. She didn’t feel any different. Like her heart had long since discovered this but her brain had only now caught up.

And the result was this: holding Riley's hand felt the same. Only now, Maya couldn’t stop thinking about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FEELINGS! FINALLY! IT ONLY TOOK ... *glances at watch* 120K WORDS! :D 
> 
> it is late, so i'll keep it short, but!! MAYA HAD HER 'OH' MOMENT I KNOW I WROTE THE THING BUT. I AM SO EXCITED. i'd love to know what you thought of this chapter!!
> 
> thank you *so* much for reading. i hope your december is going well and you're staying safe and you're well. until next time!! <3


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